


Baked, Boiled, or Fried

by Tinnean



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: AU, Alternate Universes, First Times, M/M, crossovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:01:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 70,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinnean/pseuds/Tinnean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the crash of an unidentified flying object, pilot Jim Ellison is ordered to fly to a research station at the North Pole to investigate the resultant magnetic disturbance. There he once again meets botanist Blair Sandburg, with whom he had had an all-too-brief encounter in the States.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baked, Boiled, or Fried

## Baked, Boiled, or Fried

#### by Tinnean

Author's website: <http://www.angelfire.com/fl5/tinnssinns/>  
The Sentinel belongs to Petfly and SciFi. The Thing From Another World belongs to Howard Hawks and RKO Pictures. The original short story upon which The Thing was based, Who Goes There? is by John W. Campbell, Jr.  
This first appeared in Come to Your Senses 26. Thank you to Mysti for picking up the discrepancies. And as always, many thanks to Gail, who beta'd. From inception to completion, she offered unending support.  
AU (C'mon, Blair's a 'botanist'. That doesn't say "AU" to you?). This is based on the 1951 movie, The Thing From Another World. Spoilers for the movie and for the Sentinel pilot, Switchman. At the time this takes place, neither Alaska nor Hawaii had yet become states. There is no connection between the real Machu-Picchu restaurant on North B Street, in San Mateo, California and the one in this story. Under the Wraps are really Dirty Bloody Martinis, which are made with Inferno or Pepper Pot Vodka (available in Canada). ~~~~ Indicates a flashback. Joltin' Joe, also known as the Yankee Clipper, is Joe DiMaggio, who played with the NY Yankees from 1936-1951. Sixty Minute Man, by Billy Ward and His Dominoes, was #17 on the charts in 1951. Buttons and Bows, the song Tex wanted to sing, is from the 1948 movie The Paleface. The pulp mystery Jim was reading was Farewell, My Lovely, by Raymond Chandler. Mikhail Botvinnik held the World Championship title in chess from l948-1957. In Dr. Seuss' Horton Hatches the Egg (1940), the constant refrain was, 'I meant what I said, and I said what I meant, an elephant's faithful 100%.' Triffids were created by John Wyndham. They and William Masen appear in his book, Day of the Triffids. Herman Wouk's The Caine Mutiny was published in 1951. Kisses Sweeter than Wine by the Weavers was #19 on the charts in 1951. You'll Never Walk Alone is, of course, from Rogers and Hammerstein's musical, Carousel, which opened on Broadway in 1945. The verse spoken by Mrs. Chapman is Joshua 1.9. The Romance of Helen Trent and Young Dr. Malone were popular soap operas of the 30s and 40s and aired on the radio. Dr. Clayton Forrester of Pacific-Tech is from The War of the Worlds.  


* * *

When I came across that monograph in an obscure little bookshop on the West Coast, I'd been certain I had the ideal topic for my dissertation. 

According to Sir Richard Burton, pre-civilized tribes had what he termed Sentinels, individuals with the genetic advantage of enhanced senses, who tracked weather, game, enemies. 

I'd been excited to find empirical evidence that appeared to back Burton's theory. 

However, the few men and women I'd managed to track down had one or two hyper-acute senses. There were none with all five senses enhanced. 

Eli Stoddard, the head of anthro at Rainier, had been my mentor. He read over my notes, then told me the topic I had chosen would have made an excellent piece of fiction, but nothing more. 

And so, with my funding running out, I'd been forced to give up my dreams of a doctorate in anthropology... 

"You wanted to see me, Eli?" 

"Blair, my boy!" He rose from his paper-strewn desk and crossed the room, his hand outstretched. "I wanted to congratulate you on your doctorate in botany." 

"Thank you." I shook his hand coolly. 

"I know you wanted to do your dissertation in anthropology," he spread his hands and smiled apologetically, "but I'm afraid The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg would have been more suited to Amazing Magazine than the halls of academia." 

I didn't want him to see how disappointed in myself I was for caving under academic pressure. "There's no demand in the job market for PhD's in anthropology, Eli, unless I want to do nothing more than sit behind a desk and teach. Face it, Margaret Mead got lucky." 

He made a noncommittal sound, and returned to his seat. "So. What will you do now?" 

I shrugged. "Send out my resume, see if any of the labs are looking for a botanist." I picked at my thumbnail. "I understand the British have come up with a rather unusual plant." 

"I believe I might have something that will be of interest to you. Arthur Carrington is heading a research station up at the North Pole. Two of the sources you cited, Dr. Stern and Professor Laurenz, have been recruited to join him, and when they heard you were available, they were quite enthusiastic about taking you on as their assistant." 

Dr. Carrington was a certified genius. Josef Stern and Andrew Laurenz were among the most respected men in their field. And they wanted me. 

"I'll just hold on to your papers, shall I?" 

"What? Oh. Yeah, sure." I had no need for them. I was busy mulling over this new prospect. 

All right, it was in the Arctic, and most likely I'd be nothing more than a glorified lab tech, but still... 

I shook Eli Stoddard's hand firmly. "When do I leave?" 

* * *

A year. Twelve months. Three hundred and sixty-five and a quarter days. 

That was how long I had been working under Dr. Stern and Professor Laurenz, with no end to the research in sight. 

I'd finally been given a week's leave from the research station at the Arctic. I couldn't wait to leave those cold, icy reaches, and now I couldn't wait to get back. 

"Hey, Hairboy!" 

"No." I didn't bother looking up as I stuffed the last of my clothes into my backpack. 

"You don't know what I was going to say." 

"And I don't want to know, H." 

"Aw, come on, Blair." 

"No." He was going to set me up on another blind date; I hated blind dates. The last one I had gone on had been with the schmuck from hell. He'd seemed nice enough at first, until he suddenly grew eight arms and had his hands all over me. 

He thought the fact that he'd bought me dinner entitled him to my ass. A broken nose and two black eyes later, and I'd convinced him that a case of blue balls was preferable. 

"How was I supposed to know he would turn out to be an asshole? He was never like that when we flew together." 

"Did you ever have dinner with him?" 

"Blair, I'm straight." 

"That's no excuse. Besides..." 

Henri wouldn't let me finish. "This guy isn't like that, I promise! He's a captain!" 

"Besides," I went on determinedly, "you know my flight leaves for Anchorage first thing in the morning." 

"So much the better. A few drinks, a few laughs, and then you go your separate ways." He spread his hands wide, as if negating the amount of damage that would be done. 

"I don't do one night stands, H." 

"But I swear this one will be better. Besides, he's a captain!" 

"You've already said that once." I looked around the room in the off-base quarters that he'd invited me to share with him, making sure I had everything packed. I spotted the monograph I intended to bring back to the North Pole with me and pounced on it. "Nope. Not a chance." 

"Geez, Hairboy. You don't have to marry the guy! Just have dinner with him!" 

"Do the words 'no way in hell' ring a bell?" 

There was a hesitant tap on the doorframe, and we both looked around. 

"H. Hello." Six feet of hard-bodied male pulchritude stood in the doorway. I almost swallowed my tongue. I didn't know about Henri, but I had no trouble reading the expression on his face. 

"Hey, tough guy! Long time no see!" Henri's dark eyes slid from the captain to me. 

I studied him in return. Ice-blue eyes, short-cropped brown hair. I let my gaze stroke over that body, and I was suddenly the possessor of a very hard dick. Fortunately, the pants I wore had a loose cut. 

I couldn't take my eyes off him. I wondered what those muscles beneath his flight jacket would feel like. I wondered what those lips would kiss like. "Who is _that_ , Brown?" I asked softly, also wondering if I were out of my mind. Maybe it had just been too long since I'd had sex. 

"That's who I wanted to set you up with." Henri shrugged, speaking out of the corner of his mouth and his voice low so he wouldn't be overheard. "Oh, well, never mind. Blair. I'm sure I can find someone else for him." 

On the other hand... The airman was looking me over with hot, interested eyes. 

"No, wait a second! Don't be in such a rush to take 'no' for an answer!" I had his arm in a death grip. "I changed my mind! Introduce us!" 

"Well..." he drawled. A sly smile split his black face. The pain-in-the-ass knew he had me hooked. "Blair Sandburg, meet James Ellison." 

* * *

I borrowed Henri Brown's 1945 Nash Rambler and took Jim to a small, out-of-the-way restaurant called Machu-Picchu that served South American cuisine. He ordered Ceviche, and I went along with him. 

"Tonight, our chef has prepared it with shrimp," the waiter informed us. 

"That will be fine," James Ellison, 'call me Jim, Chief,' told him. 

The waiter nodded in approval, and eventually brought out the seafood dish, which was served cold. 

I took a bite and chewed, enjoying the intermingling flavors. 

Jim identified them. "There's lemon; the raw shrimp is cooked in the juice. Onions, celery, cilantro, and aji pepper." He took a roll from the basket on the table. 

The bite of the hot pepper hit me. I had become used to hot, spicy foods from my journeys around the world, but even so it felt as it there was a four-alarmer in my mouth. My eyes crossed and teared, and my nose began to run. 

I grabbed for a roll, which was Machu-Picchu's concession to American palates, and bit off a chunk. It helped to subdue the fiery bite of the shrimp. 

"I'd forgotten how very hot those aji peppers could be." His smile was rueful. "And this is camote, which is one kind of Peruvian sweet potato." 

"You know a good deal about the food of Peru." I sucked air in through my teeth, finally finding some respite from the burn. 

"I was stationed there for eighteen months." 

"I didn't know the United States had Air Force bases in Peru." 

"We don't. I'm career Army." 

"I don't understand. Henri said he knew you through the Air Force." 

"I've been loaned to the Air Force. I always loved to fly, and planes seem to respond better to me than to other pilots." 

I could understand that. I'd been watching his big hands as they toyed with his roll, and I had a feeling most anything would respond to them, including me. 

Suddenly, I felt very warm. I shivered and cleared my throat. "Tell me more." 

"Well, I was raised by my dad, William. I have a younger brother, Steve. I'm thirty-five, divorced, no kids. I don't have any vices. Except for White Castle hamburgers. Love those belly bombers." 

"Is that all you love?" Oh, geez, I was flirting with him! 

Jim gazed at me through his lashes. "I'm also partial to brown hair. Long, curly." He reached across the table and fingered a lock of my brown hair, which had curled around my ear. His finger stroked across the discreet stud in my earlobe. I leaned into his touch. 

The waiter came to refill our water glasses, and Jim withdrew his hand. My ear felt bereft. 

I was so wrapped up in the physical sensations that I lost track of the conversation. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" 

There was laughter in his eyes, but he didn't comment on my obvious abstraction. "I said 'why don't you tell me about you?'" 

So I did. Oh, not about growing up without a father when that circumstance brought shame on both the mother and the child. 

Not about having as a mom the carefree Naomi Sandburg, who saw nothing wrong in doing as she and not society pleased. 

And most definitely not my disappointment when the topic I had selected for my dissertation, The Sentinel, had been denied. I was still Dr. Sandburg, and I was damned good in my field of botany. 

I talked of the field trips I'd been on, when I had still been hopeful of using my master's in anthropology for something more than toilet paper. I spoke of living in Dutch New Guinea with the Kombai tree people for three months, about how I'd nearly been eaten by a crocodile while in the Amazon Basin, of observing the Fire Dance in the Fiji Islands. 

We continued chatting over coffee and Peruvian pound cake topped with sour cream and peaches, and I was mesmerized by the sight of Jim slipping the fresh-sliced fruit between his perfect lips. 

Blindly, I reached for a pack of cigarettes, shook one out, and groped for my lighter. Jim took it from me and ignited it. I cupped my hand around his, and my fingertips tingled. My eyes flew up to tangle with his, and he licked his lips. The trembling in my hand had to be too fine to be felt, but I let his hand go and dipped my head to touch the end of the cigarette to the flame. 

When I looked up, he was still watching me, his gaze hungry, and my mouth went dry. I swallowed a mouthful of smoke wrong and choked. 

"Easy there, Chief." His hand on my back felt more like a caress. 

I finally caught my breath. I stubbed out the cigarette and opened my mouth, but nothing came out. 

Jim was glancing around the now empty restaurant. "I think they're waiting for us to get out of here so they can close." 

"Oh, yes!" Damn. I signaled the waiter over, settled the bill and gave him a healthy tip, and followed Jim out to the parking lot. 

The man did have a fine ass! I had bought dinner because I hadn't wanted there to be any assumptions that I would pay for my meal with a roll in the sack. 

Only, I found myself thinking I really wouldn't mind if he made that assumption. 

I sighed and walked him to Brown's Rambler. Before he got in, he leaned down toward me, and for a second I thought he was going to kiss me. 

I closed my eyes and tipped my head back to meet his lips, but instead I felt the five o'clock shadow that stubbled his cheek. His nose brushed over my face and neck, almost as if he were learning my scent. And then, to my disappointment, he put me away from him. 

His voice was husky as he murmured, "I really hate to see the evening end, Chief." 

"Then it won't. I know the perfect place." I opened the passenger door of the Rambler, and he slid onto the bench seat. "It's dark, secluded, and eyebrows won't be raised at the sight of two men dancing together." 

His eyebrow rose, and for a second I had the sinking feeling that maybe I had read him wrong, maybe he wasn't interested in me that way, but then he said, "Sounds good." 

I was almost shivering in excitement as I hurried around to the driver's side and got in. 

* * *

The Hideaway was another small, out-of-the-way place, just outside of Cascade. The host led us to a semicircular booth on the upper level, and a waiter came to take our order. "Jim?" 

"I'm a beer man myself," Jim said, "although I've been known to enjoy a nice red wine, but since this is a special occasion..." 

I looked into his ice-blue eyes and realized I was past starting to fall for him; I had already fallen. "What would you recommend?" I asked the waiter, never taking my eyes off Jim. 

"You can't come to the Hideaway without trying an Under the Wraps." 

"What do you think, Jim?" 

"Sure, why not?" 

"Two, please." 

I should have asked what was in them. 

We never did get to dance, which was kind of flattering. We sat with our thighs brushing. By the time we'd finished our first drink, Jim's left hand was on my knee, drawing patterns on the material of my trousers. By the time we'd finished our second drink, it was centimeters from my crotch. I shifted, trying to bring it closer. He smiled into my eyes and signaled the waiter to bring another round of drinks. 

Sometime during that third drink, he began to run his thumbnail over the bulge behind my fly. I sank lower in the seat and spread my legs, and his fingers cupped my balls. I bit back a moan. 

His look was almost predatory, and for a moment I panicked, thinking he had heard my response to him. 

But he couldn't have heard me. 

"Want to go, Chief?" 

"Sure." I was thankful for the dim light in the nightclub; the spot where I had leaked pre come through my trousers would have been visible otherwise. 

I hadn't reacted to anyone like this since my randy teenage years, when I'd first discovered sex and realized it was the greatest thing since ginger ale. My dick was so hard I ached, my asshole was spasming, and all I wanted was to be stretched, penetrated, and claimed. By Jim. Only by Jim. 

The Nash Rambler was parked at the far end of the Hideaway's parking lot, away from the few lights that cast illumination over the small area. Jim breathed deeply, hummed, and pushed me up against the car's side. He nuzzled my neck and seemed to purr. 

I thought it was mind-bogglingly arousing. 

I reached for my belt, ready to drop trousers and let him have me right there and then. 

"Not here, Chief. Not yet." 

I wanted to raise his head to kiss him for the first time, but he bit my neck and started sucking the skin between his lips, and my hips jerked. 

He inhaled. "You want this as much as I do!" 

"Yes." I groaned as the heel of his hand massaged my dick through my pants. My skin felt hot and tight. It had been more than a year since I'd been touched like that. The encapsulated world of the research station was not conducive to any kind of a sexual relationship, casual or otherwise. It would have felt incestuous. 

Frantically, I tried to think of a place where we could go. 

As if Jim could read my mind, "The BOQ." His voice was hoarse. "It's Saturday night. Everyone will be out." 

I scrabbled behind me and got the passenger door opened, and the two of us fell onto the front seat. I reached for the switch for the interior light. 

"No, Chief. We don't need any light." 

Maybe he wanted someplace better, more romantic, but the front seat of the borrowed Rambler was what we got. Jim yanked my pants down off my hips, and my dick sprang up to be trapped between us. He managed to get his pants out of the way also, and then the hard, hot length of him was thrusting desperately against me, through the wiry hair at my groin. 

My legs were tangled in my pants, and I couldn't raise my knees to cradle him, couldn't expose my hole to him. I was wild to have him inside me. 

One hand slid beneath me, cupped a buttock, and suddenly a wet finger was teasing my hole. It circled the rim, pressed in, retreated to repeat the tantalizing actions. 

"Jim, please!" He was driving me crazy. 

His hips rocked faster, the pre come from both of us making it easier for his dick to glide against mine. One large hand wrapped around our dicks. Heat rolled off him in furnace waves. 

"I can smell your lust, Chief! I could find you in the dark from your scent alone!" 

He continued to whisper, hoarse, guttural. "So hot. So tight. Never felt so good. Want to be inside you. Want to fuck you. Want to make you come so hard you pass out." I whimpered at the hot, sexual words he poured in my ear. 

His lips slid down to my throat, his mouth opened against it, and he gasped. His breathing became rapid, out-of-control panting, and then he groaned and stiffened. Wet heat splattered over my belly. He scooped some up and two fingers slid deep into me. My groan joined his, and I came as well. 

For long minutes, all that could be heard in the confines of the small car was our harsh panting. 

Then, "That was... that was great, Chief," he mumbled as he relaxed on me. 

Yeah, it sure was. I opened my mouth to tell him so, was surprised by a jaw-breaking yawn, and the next minute was sound asleep. 

* * *

I came awake quickly. I usually did, but this time I was slightly disoriented. My pants were twisted around my ankles, my legs felt like blocks of ice, and I was on the floorboard of the Rambler. How the heck had that happened? 

From the leather bench seat above me came a soft snore, and abruptly I recalled the events of the evening. 

Jim Ellison and I had dabbled in frottage and come all over each other. My ass was throbbing pleasantly from the invasion by his fingers. I wanted to know what his dick would feel like fucking me. 

"Hey. Flyboy." I stroked his shoulder. 

"Mmmph?" If he was going to say anything else, it was lost as he turned his head into the back of the seat. 

"Hey!" This time I shoved at this shoulder, but it didn't go any good. "C'mon, man! I'm freezing my ass off! We can't stay like this!" 

"Nice ass, Chief," he mumbled. His hand reached out blindly as if to pet it. "Where'd it go?" He sank back into slumber. 

Maybe if Jim had kissed me, petted me, told me he had never enjoyed himself so much, that _I_ was the best thing since ginger ale... maybe then I wouldn't have started thinking, worrying, imagining him telling all his friends, "Blair Sandburg? Oh, yeah, curly-haired guy, really easy. I had him the first time I met him." 

It must have been even later than I thought. I could hear patrons of the Hideaway starting to exit. 

"Fuck." I scrambled out of the car and yanked up my trousers, just barely managing not to catch my dick in my zipper, then manhandled Jim's legs into the car and slammed the door shut. It took a few seconds to steady myself. I would have liked to have taken a nap, too. "Well, _fuck_." 

I kicked the tire, walked around to the driver's side door, and got behind the wheel. Talk about a totally male, apres sex reaction. I put the car in gear and drove to the Bachelor Officers Quarters. 

By the time we reached the BOQ, I was too tired to be angry any longer, and I was starting to become concerned. Jim was still out cold. I remembered he'd said he usually drank beer or the occasional glass of wine. Had the Under the Wraps been too much for him? 

I pulled him out of the front seat, stooped, and got him in a fireman's lift. Jim might have had almost half a foot on me, but I was stronger than I looked. 

He muttered incoherently, then subsided. His hands dangled down my back, and he didn't even fondle my ass. I staggered down the corridor and entered the first open door I found. There were four beds in the room, but they were all unoccupied. I dumped him on the nearest bed. I was strong, but he was heavy. 

I was tempted to leave him lying like that, with his pants undone and his dick hanging out, but I overcame my baser instincts and decided to make him comfortable. After all, he'd given me a very nice orgasm, even if I hadn't been able to wallow in the afterglow. 

I stripped off his flight jacket, removed his shoes, and dragged his trousers down off his legs. I sucked in a deep breath. 

He had nice legs, strong legs, the muscles well-defined and covered with a dusting of brown hair slightly darker than the hair on his head. 

I began to grumble. Those legs could have been kneeling behind me as he pushed his dick into my ass, making me howl with each stroke. 

I looked down at his body and sighed. His dick looked so innocent, peeking out of his fly. I wanted to crawl into that bed beside him, wanted to swallow that dick to the root and blow him like he'd never been blown. I wanted to wake up in the morning with him buried so deep in my ass we wouldn't be able to tell where he ended and I began. 

Instead I tucked it into his Air Force issue shorts and sighed again. 

"Don't go." 

I started. 

His eyelids rose languidly. His eyes were unfocused. "Chief." 

"You okay, Jim?" 

He smiled, sleepy and sated. "Never better, Chief." 

"What's my name, Jim?" 

"Chief," he mumbled and fell back asleep. 

All night long, he'd been calling me that. Did he even remember my name? I turned to leave. 

Only thing was, I'd liked him. I still liked him. 

I dug out a pencil, found a piece of paper, and scrawled across it, //Sorry I couldn't stay longer, but I have an early flight to catch. At 8. AM. At Cascade Airport. You have cute legs, Jim!// He'd been calling me 'Chief' all night. I signed it with a C. 

I propped the note on his chest. If I was lucky he'd wake up before I had to leave and come see me off. If not... 

I walked out. 

* * *

In spite of the fact that Jim Ellison had literally fallen asleep on me, I hung around the Cascade airport for as long as I dared before the pilot grunted and gestured toward the twin engine plane. "Inside now if you want to make your connection at Anchorage." 

One final, futile gaze around the terminal, and I trotted across the tarmac and climbed into the plane. 

Headwinds delayed our arrival at Anchorage. I raced to the plane that was waiting with its engines revving lazily, my backpack thumping uncomfortably against my side. 

"Sorry I kept you waiting, Rafe." 

"Blair! You back already? Man, that week went fast! Nah, we can't leave until our other passenger gets here." 

"Someone else is joining us at our garden spot?" 

He grinned at me around the cigarette between his teeth. "Carrington's secretary is hangin' up her typewriter. We're just waitin' on her replacement." 

"Nikki's leaving? I'm sorry to hear that. She's good people." 

"Yeah. I think she finally convinced her guy that the double dome was makin' a serious pass." 

" _Carrington_?" The unspoken consensus was that he was brilliant but asexual, with no desire for either men or women. "Well, I guess," I was dubious, "if you don't know him..." 

Rafe laughed uproariously. "And I guess her guy don't. She's headin' out to get married! Why don't you get aboard, Blair? It may be a while before the new secretary puts in an appearance." 

"What's holding her up?" 

"No idea. But you know women. Probably makin' sure her make-up is on just so." 

I gave him a vague smile. I didn't really know women, but that wasn't something I was about to share with him. "Think I'll see if I can catch some zzz's." 

"Late night last night?" 

"Yeah." And I wasn't about to talk about that either. 

But Rafe was busy yelling at one of the Anchorage ground crew. "Kev! Will you get that goddamn ice off my wings?" 

I climbed into the plane and took one of the few seats that had been left in place. Most of them had been removed to accommodate the massive supplies that needed to be brought to the research station. I fastened my seat belt, leaned my head against the back of the seat, and was out cold before I realized it. I slept through the other passenger's arrival and the entire flight. 

* * *

The landing skis of the C-54 cushioned the landing and allowed the twin engine plane to glide to a gentle stop on the snow-packed runway. I could feel it, even in my sleep. 

A pointed finger was jabbing my shoulder, in a really annoying manner. I blinked the sleep out of my eyes. "What?" 

"Would you please wake up?" The woman who was prodding me would have been attractive if it hadn't been for the discontented twist to her lips. "We're here." 

"Thanks." 

"Would have been nice if you'd been awake during the flight," she muttered. "I was bored out of my mind!" 

I brushed the hair back off my face and pushed myself to my feet. 

She backed up a step and sniffed delicately, and I wondered if it was me, personally, who offended her, or men in general. She was a little taller than I, and I had to look up to meet her eyes. 

"After you, miss." I gestured for her to exit the plane before me. Naomi might have been a bohemian spirit, but she had taught me manners. 

I climbed out of the twin engine plane, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. 

The ground crew hustled to get the plane refueled. There was a front coming through; it seemed like there was always a front coming through, and the flight crew needed to head out with the latest copies of the station's reports. 

"Oh, m-m-my g-g-god!" The woman gave a convulsive shiver. The jacket she wore might have been all the rage on the ski slopes in the States, but up here it wouldn't even keep a mild chill at bay. The fact that she was also wearing a skirt didn't help, either. "It m-m-must be about 40 b-b-below!" 

"Yeah, and it isn't even winter yet! Let me get you inside. The men will see your luggage is brought in." 

"Th-th-thank you." 

"I'm Blair Sandburg." 

"I'm..." 

"Hey, Blair!" one of the flight crew shouted above the rising wind. "Tell Nik not to dawdle! We need to haul ass outta here!" 

I waved a hand to let him know I'd heard and hurried the woman out of the cutting wind and into the first of the insulated buildings. This one was above ground and contained storage rooms as well as the radio room and the passageways that led to the other buildings, which were sixty percent beneath the permafrost. 

"Hi, sweetie! We've missed you!" 

"Mrs. Chapman!" I hugged her. 

Esther Chapman was a motherly woman who was as comfortable in trousers as any of the men in the station. If Dr. Chapman, the premier mineralogist on the planet, was the actual head of this research facility because Dr. Carrington always had his head buried in his work, then his wife was the one who took care of us, made sure we didn't get so wrapped up in our experiments that we forgot to eat. She also made sure we were treated for assorted cuts, bruises, sore throats and head colds. 

"And I'm assuming this is Nikki's replacement?" She smiled warmly. "Hello. You must be freezing! Let me show you to your quarters, and we'll see about getting you warmed up. We'll need to get you some slacks, also." She led the younger woman down the corridor, deeper into the warmth of the living quarters of the station. 

"Well, good night nurse!" 

"Hi, Simon." 

Simon Banks, in charge of security at the station, watched the retreating figures with interested eyes. "Hi, Blair." 

When Dr. Arthur Carrington had decided that his research _had_ to be conducted in the Arctic, the Federal Government had almost had a conniption fit. Mere miles from the Soviet Union, they were positive the Commies would try to infiltrate the research station and get their Red mitts on the top brains in the country. They had contacted Simon, who had been in military intelligence during the war, and had instructed him to put together a team of topnotch specialists to protect the egg heads. 

"Is that Nikki's replacement?" 

"Yeah." 

Simon rolled his cigar thoughtfully between his teeth. "Her picture doesn't do her justice." Whoever had hired her would have gone through Simon for her final clearance. He pulled his attention from her swaying hips and grinned down at me. "So, you're back, short stuff." 

"Yep. Did I miss anything?" 

"Nothing much. The most excitement was when the powers that be sent us twenty-five rolls of cattle fencing." 

"What? What purpose could we have for cattle fencing for at the North Pole?" 

"Be damned if I know. So tell me. How was your vacation in Cascade?" 

I shrugged. 

"That good, hmm?" He started down a corridor that branched off from the one the women had taken, and I followed him. Our footsteps sounded hollow on the wooden walkway that was laid out above the concrete floor. "You look like you could use a vacation from your vacation. What did you do, fall for a pair of pretty blue eyes?" He saw my expression. "Blair!" 

"I didn't." 

"Why do I get the feeling that you aren't telling me the truth?" 

"Because I'm not?" I gripped his sleeve and pulled him to a halt. "Simon, he was the most gorgeous man I've ever met." 

Simon knew which side of the street I walked, and it hadn't bothered him. I'd felt I had to reassure him, however. 

'I won't make a pass at you or Daryl, Simon.' Daryl was his teenaged son, who occasionally came up to visit. 'I don't rob cradles or old age homes,' earnestly. 

He'd frowned at me around one of those fat Cuban cigars he favored. 'You could have just said black men don't appeal to you.' 

I'd pretended shock. 'You want me to _lie_ to you? You're the head of security!' 

'Smart ass!' He'd cuffed my shoulder, but his eyes had been bright with humor. 

* * *

I was only supposed to be in the Philippines for a few months. Eli Stoddard had arranged for me to be a member of a field trip in the fall of '41, the purpose of which was to study the legends and customs of the indigenous peoples of the island chain. We split up to better cover the many small tribes, and I went to live with a tribe of Negritos who made their home in the dense forests at the base of Mount Apo, on the island of Mindanao. 

They were a short people, and I almost felt like Gulliver in the land of Lilliput. 

But then the Japanese began landing troops in December of that year. 

Using the ham radio Eli had insisted I take to stay in contact with the 'civilized' world, I listened in growing horror as MacArthur was forced to abandon Manila, retreating to Bataan and Corregidor. 

He was ordered to leave his forces, and on March 1st he made his famous 'I will return' speech and sailed to Australia through Japanese-controlled waters. 

On April 9th, Bataan surrendered. 

By May 6th, with the surrender of Corregidor, it was all over. 

We were too far south to attempt any kind of assistance, but the remnants of a squad of colored soldiers somehow wandered into our territory. George Washington Jefferson, the sergeant, who couldn't have been more than four or five years my senior, formed the Negrito men into a band of guerillas, eventually one of the most deadly on the Island chain. 

Since I was the only one who could speak Tagalog and English, I became his translator. We worked together constantly, and I found myself attracted to him. He was a few inches taller than I, with black hair that covered his scalp in tight curls, and eyes like a midnight sky. His nose had character, and his lips... I found myself stealing looks at them, wondering what they would feel like against mine. 

"What's he saying, boy?" 

"Excuse me?" I dragged my attention back from my lascivious thoughts of him. "Oh, er... Sorry. A couple of Japs have wandered away from the others. And don't call me 'boy', George. I'm not that much younger than you." 

"Sure, boy." His smile was a slash of white in his dark face. "Do we have a clear shot at them?" 

"Of course. I already told Atribe and his brother to take them." 

The Negritos returned with the heads. While not primarily headhunters, this tribe tended to dabble in it. George swallowed heavily when he saw the staring eyes and the ragged edges where head and neck had been joined. 

"Sissy," I sassed, and he narrowed his eyes at me 

"I'll show you who's a sissy, boy!" And he swatted my seat. His hand seemed to linger, and my mouth went dry. 

George and I stayed behind to throw them off the trail if it became necessary, hidden, waiting to see what the reaction would be when the other Japs came across the decapitated bodies. 

They went wild, screaming in fear and fury. Bullets tore the brush above our heads, narrowly missing us, as they sprayed the area with machine-gun fire. 

George clapped a hand over my mouth, mashing my lips against my teeth, and rolled his body over mine. "Shhh," he hissed in my ear. 

We stayed that way for what seemed like hours, but was probably no more that twenty minutes. They finally left. 

"Don't move, it could be a ruse," he whispered, and I nodded to let him know I understood. 

I shifted under George's body. His gun had been digging into the crevice between my buttocks the entire time. I'd experimented with a boy when I first entered Rainier, hands mostly, and I'd liked it. Now the feeling of something so close to my hole, not to mention our close call with the enemy, made me so horny I knew that a touch to my dick would have me shooting my load. 

It turned out it was George's weapon, all right; it just wasn't his gun. 

There was some rustling behind me, and I managed a look over my shoulder. He had freed his shaft. It was shiny blue-black, and the tip glistened with drops of liquid. I'd seen an uncircumcised penis before, but never one that was aroused, and I bit my lip to keep my moan silent. The possibility that the Japs could return was always imminent. 

I met his eyes, and he saw the acquiescence in mine. He worked my pants off my hips, down past my knees and around my calves, then kissed my left ass cheek. 

"Gotta have you, boy." 

"Yes!" 

I don't know what he found to ease his way in. Maybe it was just the adrenaline rush of our close brush with death. Maybe he had something in his pocket. Whatever it was, it made my first time memorable in a very good way. He held my ass cheeks apart, got the head of his dick lined up with my hole, and started a steady pressure. 

"You a virgin, Blair?" 

If I told him 'yes', he might stop. If I told him 'no', he might think I was cheap. I mumbled something, thrust back, and he popped through the tight ring of muscle. There was pain, but the promise of pleasure outweighed it 

He bit the shirt over my shoulder to prevent himself from groaning, and I bit the palm that was once more over my mouth. 

It was fortunate that we'd kept silent, because one of the Japs returned to relieve himself against a tree not more than a dozen feet from us. George held himself still, but I could feel his dick like a huge intrusion inside me. I clenched my inner muscles involuntarily, and he nipped my ear in warning. 

Finally the Jap shook a last drop from his dick, put himself back in his pants, glanced around, and left. 

George groaned, deep and guttural, and an explosion of heat flooded my bowels as he came. Seconds later, I shuddered and found myself lying on a wet spot. 

We couldn't chance staying there much longer. George helped me get my pants up, and I tucked him away in his pants. 

And then we got the hell out of there. 

Afterwards, we took what opportunities we could find to fuck, although we didn't have many. The few survivors of his squad had paired off with the women of the Negritos, who were as dark as they, but they would have looked askance at a relationship between their sergeant and anyone white, much less another male. 

I never did learn what his lips felt like. 

In '44, MacArthur returned as he promised, and George and his men returned to their division. The fighting was fierce. As a civilian, I was bundled out of the danger zone. I was sent first to Australia, and from there to Hawaii and then back to Cascade. 

I heard through the grapevine that if George Washington Jefferson hadn't been colored, he would surely have gotten the Medal of Honor. 

He _was_ awarded the Philippine Presidential Unit Citation, the Distinguished Service Cross, the Bronze Star, and the Purple Heart. 

The last two were posthumous. 

* * *

"Let me give you a hand with your backpack, and you can tell me about it." 

I came back to the present. Simon was talking about my meeting with the striking captain. He looped the awkward pack over his shoulder, and we resumed walking. 

"It's all Brown's fault," I groused good-naturedly, not wanting him to know how serious it had been for me. 

"What did Henri do?" Simon grinned. He was familiar with some of our escapades. 

"He set me up on a blind date with Jim Ellison." 

"Ellison? I didn't know he was gay." 

"You know him, Simon?" My mouth was suddenly dry. 

"I've been out of the military a few years now, but yes, I know of him." He saw how pale I had become and hurried to reassure me. "Blair, his private life is none of my affair. He's a damn good soldier. He served in the Pacific theater toward the end of the war. I seem to recall he took out a machine gun nest on some little island no one even knew the name of, saved his men from a jungle ambush. Said the Japs were really careless, they made so much noise he had no trouble locating them. Funny thing was, none of his men heard them." 

"That is strange, Simon." Briefly I toyed with the notion that Jim Ellison might have hyper-acute hearing, then dismissed it as irrelevant. I wasn't looking for a sentinel any longer. 

"Anyway, he was awarded a medal for it. What's he doing in Cascade?" 

"He's been loaned to the Air Force." 

"That's the military for you." He opened the door to my room, reached in, and dropped my backpack to the floor, then displayed the pack of cigarettes he'd filched from one of the pockets. "Uh uh uh." 

I sighed. Dr. Carrington had one hard and fast rule: no smoking in his research station. That didn't mean we were above trying to smuggle them in. 

"You weren't even half-trying, Blair." 

"I had other things on my mind," I assured him in an injured tone, but he knew me well enough not to take it seriously. 

"Yeah, I guess so." There was a half-smile on his lips, and he cuffed my shoulder. "Come to the mess hall. We're giving Nikki a farewell party. I'll buy you a cup of joe, and you can kiss the bride good-bye." 

"Sounds good to me." 

"And tomorrow you'll have to hit the ground running. Dr. Stern's been getting really antsy about those MacCormick molds." 

"That's Professor Laurenz's project!" Lately I'd noticed that I was being assigned more and more of the botanist's experiments. 

He laughed at the look on my face. "Looks like it's yours now." 

* * *

The crowd in the mess hall was starting to thin out. 

Toilet paper streamers were draped from the ceiling beams, and plastic gloves, blown up as impromptu balloons, were tied to them, makeshift decorations. 

"Captain Banks. Can I see you a minute?" one of his men called to him. Danny Barnes. He was the youngest of Simon's security team, a green-eyed towhead from Delaware, whose relative, high up in the government, had done some arm-twisting and string-pulling and gotten him the spot. 

Barnes looked a little uneasy. I remembered his arrival earlier in the summer. Months of light, twenty-four hours a day, tended to drive some people over the brink. He'd finally managed to adapt, but winter was a little more than six weeks away. How would he deal with those months of unrelenting darkness? 

Simon swore under his breath. "I'll have to owe you that coffee, Blair." 

"It's okay, Simon." I waved him off and looked around for the guest of honor. 

Standing near the head of a table, wearing an improvised veil made of some gauzy material and appearing teary-eyed, was Alberta Nicholson, Dr. Carrington's tall, dark-haired secretary. 

"Nikki!" 

"Blair! Oh, sweetie, I'm so glad you made it back before I left!" 

"I hear best wishes are in order." 

"This is it, Blair." Her smile was misty. "The big lug realized he couldn't live without me!" 

"So Pat's finally asked you to marry him?" 

"Yeah." She dropped her voice. "When he found out that Arthur wanted me..." 

"Ah, a little obfuscation on your part. So he pulled a dog-in-the-manger?" 

She nodded and grinned. "I told him he couldn't have it both ways, he snapped and snarled, but the result is I'm flying down to Anchorage to meet him, and we'll tie the knot as soon as we have the blood tests. Mrs. Patrick Hendry." Her sigh was contented. 

"Well, good for you! Where will you go on your honeymoon?" 

"Would you believe Niagara Falls? It was Pat's idea. Who'd have thought an Air Force captain could be so romantic once he'd put his mind to it?" 

I thought of the captain that I'd so recently met, and swallowed. "Well, have a good time, Nikki. When will you be back?" 

She was shaking her head. "No, this really is it, sweetie. I'm retiring from the glamorous life of Dr. Carrington's chief cook and bottle washer. Pat's taking me back to the base in the States, we're going to have a pack of kids, and if I never see a snowdrift or a typewriter again, I will be a very happy woman!" 

"We'll miss you." I hugged her and kissed her cheek. "Have you met your replacement yet?" 

"No, I'm afraid not, and if she doesn't turn up soon..." 

"That reminds me. Fred said..." 

"Here she is. I was giving her a quick tour of the place." Mrs. Chapman was standing at the door. The other woman was beside her, looking around with mild curiosity. "Everyone! Meet Carolyn Plummer! She'll be taking over for Nikki." 

The scientists mumbled greetings, the techs, admiring her legs, gave long, low whistles, and then they all turned their attention back to the table, demolishing the remains of the feast that had been prepared for Nikki's party. 

"I'll introduce this bunch to you later, Carolyn, when you've settled in and are more likely to remember their names." 

"Thank you." 

"Would you care for something to eat, Miss Plummer? I'm about to get a sandwich for myself," Simon told her. 

She took an aborted step back, and her smile seemed forced. "That's quite all right. I'm not hungry." 

Simon's face went blank, and I watched as he crossed to the group around the table; they parted like the Red Sea for him. He helped himself to a thick sandwich, took a healthy bite, and straddled a chair facing us, his eyes hooded. 

"Who is he?" 

"Simon's head of security here. He's the one who cleared you." Nikki was justifiably annoyed. She liked Simon. 

A hard flush ran from the other woman's chin to her hairline. 

"Miss Plummer." The two young women eyed each other for a minute before they exchanged handshakes. 

"Carolyn, please. And you're Alberta." 

No one called her that, but Nikki didn't correct her. "Carolyn. I'm sure you'll do an excellent job." 

She didn't sound sure at all. I started to laugh, and Nikki dug her elbow into my ribs. My laugh changed to a cough to disguise it. 

"I'm sorry I won't have the opportunity to get to know you. There aren't many women in this station, and while these are a great bunch of scientists for the most part... well, you know men." 

"Only too well," Carolyn replied, disgust clear in her words. "I was married to one for about eighteen months." 

"'Was'?" Nikki gave her a cool look. "I'm sorry, that's none of my business." 

Carolyn shrugged. "I don't mind talking about Ji... about him. He changed so much. First it was that the sheets were too scratchy, then that I was putting too many spices in the meals I worked my fingers to the bone to make for him. As if that wasn't enough, he didn't care about my sister's wedding, about the stress my mother was going through trying to organize it, about how unhelpful my father was... He just wasn't the man I thought I'd married." 

Nikki looked a little shell-shocked from the barrage of information. 

Mrs. Chapman looked amused. "Ah, Carolyn, none of them are." 

The door burst open. "Hey, Nik! Shake your tailfeathers! We got a front comin' in!" 

"My suitcase?" 

"It's loaded on the plane." 

"Okay, Fred, I'm on my way." She yanked off the veil and bunched it to her side, kissed everyone, including Lee, the Chinese cook, then scooped up her parka. "Bye. Good-bye. Good..." She ran out. 

There was an awkward silence, and then, "Hey, is there any more of that cake left?" 

"I'll have a piece too." Danny Barnes glanced around briefly, then picked up a plate and fork and sat beside Simon. 

The head of security wiped the impatience off his face before anyone else saw it. "Lee, more java." 

"Come along, Carolyn. I'll show you the greenhouse. Blair, remind me to give you the key back." 

"Sure thing, Mrs. C." 

"You lock the greenhouse?" Carolyn Plummer was startled. "What do you keep in there?" 

"The Eskimos have a weakness for Blair's strawberries," Mrs. Chapman was telling her as they walked out of the mess hall. "If we don't keep it locked, they..." The door swung shut on the rest of her explanation. 

It opened again almost immediately, and Dr. Chapman came in. Slightly over six feet and solidly muscled, he was in his early fifties. His light brown hair had a sprinkling of grey, and his pale blue eyes were sharply intelligent. 

"Blair!" He swept me into a bear hug. While Esther Chapman was more of a mother to me than Naomi had ever been, Hugo Chapman was like the father that Naomi felt I could live without knowing. "A little bird told me you were back! How was your vacation?" 

"I found another monograph that mentioned sentinels." I lowered my voice. "And I... uh... I kind of met someone." 

He studied me. "Esther is sure to ask how you 'kind of' meet someone, but I want to know about the monograph." He thrust a porcelain mug of coffee into my hands. "Lee, forget these scavengers! Get a plate of food for our boy." 

The warm, fragrant steam rose to encircle my head, and I inhaled deeply. "Ah. I missed Lee's coffee." 

"Sit down." He pushed me into a seat and sat down beside me. "You're an excellent botanist, Blair, but I know your heart isn't really in it." 

"It doesn't really make much difference, Hugo." 

Lee brought me a plate of steak and eggs. 

Dr. Chapman waited until he left. "If it's the money you need for funding..." 

"No. That's turned out to be the least of my worries." I sliced into the steak. "When my grandparents passed away, they left me enough to cover college expenses for at least ten years if I was frugal. It would have been nice if Naomi had told me at the time, but... Oh, well, spilt milk. The big problem would be finding a subject with the enhanced senses." 

"But if you believe in this?" Mrs. Chapman had returned without Carolyn Plummer. 

I'd heard that if a couple was together long enough, they started to resemble each other. The Chapmans seemed to be proof of that. Although her coloring was somewhat darker than his, her eyes had the same lively and intelligent expression. 

"No, it's like Professor Stoddard said. It makes an excellent piece of fiction." 

Dr. Chapman opened his mouth, then appeared to think better of whatever he had been about to say. "Where's the young lady I saw with you in the corridor, Esther?" 

"Carolyn just couldn't seem to warm up." That was an understatement. Wisely, I kept my mouth shut. "I offered her our bathroom and left her soaking in a hot tub." They were the only ones with a private bath, complete with a tub. 

Everyone, including Dr. Carrington, made do with the communal baths. 

Dr. Carrington should have had those rooms, but he'd wanted Hugo Chapman as part of his research team more. He would have given the man a seraglio of dancing girls, or dancing boys, if that had been one of his demands. Of course, Esther Chapman would have had a good deal to say about that. 

"Here's the key to the greenhouse, Blair." 

"Thanks, Mrs. C." I looped the lanyard over my head. 

Dr. Chapman smiled. "Why don't you tell Esther about who you met?" 

"Sweetie, you met someone? I'm so happy!" 

"Don't be. We had one date." I wasn't certain she was aware that men could have sex with each other, but I was certain she would have been shocked out of her flannel underwear if I told her what I'd done with a man I had known only a few hours. "It wasn't anything to make a fuss over, honest. We just had dinner and a few drinks and... Um... If you don't mind, I think I'll go back to my quarters and take a nap. Simon's told me Dr. Carrington has put the MacCormick molds in my care, and I'll need to check them later this evening." 

I left my half-eaten meal on the table and got out before she could question me further. 

* * *

Narrow bed, single chest of drawers, desk with a lamp and chair. 

My room felt like an alien place, even though I'd only been away for seven days. 

There would be time later to empty my backpack and set the dirty clothes aside to be taken to the laundry. Right now I needed a shower. There hadn't been time the night before. 

Well, truthfully, there had, but I hadn't wanted to wash Jim Ellison's come off my groin and navel. I still didn't want to, which I found really pathetic, but I was starting to itch. 

I removed the stud from my ear and put it in the small box that held my memories. My grandparents' wedding rings, which Naomi swore she had no use for, an onyx pinky ring that I believed was my father's, other bits and pieces to remind me of the people I'd met in my travels, the friends and the very occasional lover. 

I grabbed up fresh clothes and went to the men's shower. It was empty, the men either being in the mess hall or the laboratories. I turned on the water, stripped down, stuffed the hothouse key into a trouser pocket, and stepped into the narrow cubicle. 

The hot water was less than a cascade down my back. I stuck my head under it, wetting my hair. It was shorter than it had been only the week before, although still longer and curlier than was acceptable in society. I hadn't been in the Arctic more than a few weeks before I decided I would use anything that would provide me with warmth. I'd even had a beard. Before I'd left on my vacation, Mrs. Chapman had shaved it off for me and trimmed my hair as well. Now that I was back at the research station, I'd have to let it grow out again. 

I poured some liquid shampoo into my palm and worked it through my hair. Ropes of lather slid over my shoulders and chest. I liked the feel of the bubbles catching on my nipples. 

Once I'd finished washing my hair, I reached for the bar of soap, rubbing it over my arms, then through the mat of hair that covered my chest and arrowed down to my abdomen. My dick was flaccid, but as I bent to wash my legs, the water hit the crack of my ass. 

My dick became engorged with the blood that caused it to swell. 

I was suddenly overtaken by the image of Jim Ellison behind me in the shower, his groin pressed against my ass, the thick length of his shaft nudging the crevice between my buttocks. 

I bit back a groan and stroked my dick with a soapy hand, while a finger slid past my anus, finding my prostate as Jim had done on the front seat of the borrowed car. I pushed back onto my finger, then rocked my hips forward and thrust into my fist. 

I braced my legs apart and rubbed my thumb roughly over the slit that was oozing drops of pre come while I pushed a second finger into my back passage. It was awkward, and soap wasn't the best lubricant, but once I'd found my prostate and began giving it the attention it was begging for, I flat out didn't care. 

I closed my eyes against the spray and imagined how it could have been. 

A tall body joining me in the shower. 

Fingers manacling my wrists, my torso against the cool tin while my ass was angled back. 

My legs shoved apart and his dick between my cheeks, rubbing along the crevice, teasing my hole. 

Needing him inside me. 

Tossing my head in frustration that he wouldn't give me what I wanted. 

My hair slapping wetly against his face, then pushed aside, and teeth biting down on the back of my neck at the same moment his dick slammed into me. 

My hips jerked as I came, spattering the wall with semen. I sagged and struggled to catch my breath and let the water trickle down, rinsing me clean. 

Blindly I reached out and twisted the faucets. The water pressure was never the best, half the times the pipes were in danger of freezing, and there'd be hell to pay if I used up all the hot water. 

Still, it wasn't Saturday night. Maybe no one would realize there was a bit of a hot water shortage. 

I dried myself off, put on the clean clothes, and picked up the shirt that I'd worn for more than twenty-four hours. The tail was a little stiff, and I realized semen must have dried on it. I raised it to my face and inhaled, and was inundated again with memories of the night before. 

Why hadn't Ellison stayed awake long enough to fuck me? 

I gathered up the rest of my clothing and returned to my room, where I found the Eskimo girls Mrs. Chapman employed to do the station's laundry had been by and collected the clothes that had been in my backpack. 

They were good girls, but they had no concept of the necessity of doing things expeditiously. 

That meant the only clean clothes I had were the ones I was wearing. 

I was pleased they hadn't taken the shirt that carried the scent of Jim and me. I hung it over the back of the chair. At least I had a memento. 

I decided I didn't really need that nap and went down to my laboratory. 

* * *

Something disrupted my concentration, and I raised my head from the microscope. I took off my glasses and squeezed the bridge of my nose, then peered into the shadows at the corners of the room, but the laboratory was quiet. 

A glance at the clock on the wall told me it was a quarter past eleven. I'd been studying these slides for much longer than I'd realized. The mold spores were beginning to swim before my eyes. 

"Okay, Sandburg, enough," I muttered to myself. "Let's get you to bed before you keel over. Maybe if you're lucky, you'll dream of Jim Ellison." 

I sighed. The odds of seeing him again in anything but my dreams really were minimal. 

I took the notes I'd been making and stacked them in the in box for the new secretary to transcribe and give to Dr. Carrington, and called it a night. 

* * *

I overslept. 

It was unusual in the extreme that Dr. Carrington hadn't sent someone to wake me up. I vigorously massaged my scalp, clambered out of bed, and dragged on my clothes, paid a hasty visit to the lavatory, then hurried to the empty mess hall. 

I was starved. I should have finished my meal the night before. 

"I keep these warm for you, Brair." Lee grinned and handed me a mug of coffee and a plate stacked high with pancakes. 

"Thanks, Lee." I took a seat at one of the long tables, and he brought me the jug of warm maple syrup and the butter dish. 

Simon walked in, and I paused with the fork half-way to my mouth. 

"Jesus, man! You look exhausted." 

He looked more than exhausted. His black face was almost grey with fatigue. He dropped down beside me with a groan, accepted the mug of coffee Lee offered him, and took a deep gulp. 

"Just need to get my second wind." Simon carefully placed the mug on the table and dug his fingers into his eyes as if an incipient headache was lurking behind them. "Last night, around 11:15..." 

The door to the mess hall swung open to bang against the wall, and our heads jerked up to see who was coming in. 

Tex Richards, the radio operator. A broad grin stretched his mouth when he saw me. 

"Hey, amigo! I heard you were back! I wanna hear all your tales about the big, bad city!" 

Cascade, a big, bad city? I swallowed a grin. How would he regard Chicago or New York? "Hi, Tex." 

He quickly became serious. "A message just came in from General Fogarty, Captain Banks." The radio man crossed to where we sat and handed him a slip of paper. "Sounds like this ain't the first he's sent, but it's the first that wasn't drowned out by static." 

Simon studied it carefully, worrying his lower lip. "Thanks, Tex. Notify me as soon as anything else comes in. We may have a situation on our hands." 

"Will do. See you later, Blair." 

I gave Tex a salute with my fork. "What's going on, Simon?" 

"I don't know. Last night at 11:15 something passed overhead and crashed about 48 miles due east of here. We know the exact time because that's when the sound detectors recorded it. At first we thought it was a plane, and I contacted the Air Force, but General Fogarty," he gestured with the paper, "assures me that none of ours are missing." 

"Russian, Simon?" 

"Possibly. They're all over the Pole like flies. The only reason why the Military gave permission for this garden party up here is because the egg heads have me and my boys guarding their asses." 

"Placing your bodies between us and the evil Commies?" It was meant to lighten the atmosphere, but it wasn't successful. 

"That's right." Simon was dead serious. 

"So what's got the General's shorts in a bunch?" Fogarty, the general who ran the Air Force on the West Coast, was known for keeping a cool head when others were panicking. If he was concerned... 

"Whatever it is that crashed, it's producing a magnetic disturbance that's throwing everything off kilter!" 

"Odd. Meteorite, maybe?" 

"That's what Dr. Chapman believes. Of course, Carrington believes it's something else entirely." 

"Oh?" 

Simon's expression became sour. "He thinks it's some sort of... Twenty thousand tons of metal. Hell, Blair, you know his favorite hobby horse." 

"Extraterrestrial life? A UFO? The Air Force has flatly stated that they're either hallucinations, weather balloons, or out-and-out hoaxes." 

"Right." 

"Seriously, Simon." My expression was the most earnest I could make it. "According to the Department of Defense's Office of Public Information, in an official communique dated 12/27/49, Bulletin 629-49, item 6700, extract 75,131, the Air Force will no longer be investigating and evaluating reports of flying objects because there ain't no such animal." 

"How do you remember that shit?" 

"I make it my business to memorize the important sh... stuff, Simon." As I'd hoped, that finally got a grin out of him. 

"General Fogarty is having kittens about that magnetic disturbance. Almost twelve hours, and it hasn't abated to any degree. He wants us to go check it out. He's sending some men to investigate it. They're already on there way up." 

"Sounds like SOP to me. Will I get to go?" 

"Not your field, Sandburg." He ignored my muttering that he never let me have any fun and growled, "He's sending a reporter, too, to cover it." 

"And he'll get to go out on the ice with the big boys? Simon, that is just not fair!" 

"It's a woman." 

"Huh?" 

"The reporter. He's a 'she.'" 

"She must be something special. Who is she?" 

"Megan Connor." 

My jaw dropped. "The only female reporter to cover not only the European Theater, but the Pacific Theater as well?" 

Simon grunted. "General Fogarty isn't impressed. He just wants to get her the hell out of Cascade." 

"I thought you said he wants her to... Oh. I see." There were things going on in Cascade that the General didn't want the public privy to. The man was noted for nursing his secrets like a June bride. "When are they supposed to arrive?" 

"Probably another twenty minutes. About a hour out they had to start homing in on Tex's open mic. He told me he offered to sing for them, but they graciously declined his offer." 

I could understand it; I'd heard the radio man sing. "This going to be a long visit?" 

"I hope not, but they'll be bringing additional, er... supplies." He looked up. 

I glanced up as well, at the toilet paper streamers that were still dangling from the ceiling beams. "Well, that's thoughtful." 

He checked his watch. "They'd better shake their asses. We've got a front moving in..." 

"That's nothing new," I grinned as I finished the last of the pancakes. 

"... and they're going to wind up stranded up here. Carolyn Plummer should be really thrilled about that. Her ex-husband will be piloting that plane." 

"Oh, boy. And from the way she talked about him yesterday, I don't think he's her most favorite person." 

Simon gave me an odd look, but Dr. Carrington walked into the mess hall just then. 

Arthur Carrington had more degrees than Carter had pills. His IQ was off the chart, and there was nothing he liked more than finding answers to seemingly unanswerable questions. 

He was a very distinguished-looking man, of medium height, with close-cropped, prematurely white hair and cool grey eyes. Normally, he preferred to wear a cardigan that matched his eyes, but now he was dressed for the outdoors in an alpaca coat that wouldn't have looked out of place on 5th Avenue. In his hand was a hat of sealskin that our Eskimos had made for him. 

"Captain Banks, have you seen... Ah, there you are, Dr. Sandburg." 

"Yes, sir?" 

"You've heard about the disturbance?" 

"Simon was telling me about it." 

"Excellent, excellent. I'm...er... I'm afraid you won't be able to go out with us." 

"Simon told me that, also." I wanted to go, and I couldn't help the touch of resentment in my voice. Dr. Carrington didn't take note of it at all. 

"Ah. Excellent. Well, I wanted you to know General Fogarty's men are just arriving, Captain Banks." 

"Thanks." Simon looked put out. As head of security, he should have been informed first. 

"They brought up the supplies we've been requesting, and I'm having them transferred to the storage building." 

Simon nodded grudgingly. "That should give me time to round up my crew. Blair, would you mind telling the Eskimos to harness the dogs?" 

"Sure thing, Simon." I'd become friendly with our Eskimos, had learned their language, and spent a good deal of my spare time with them. The dynamics of their tribal life fascinated me. 

Once an anthropologist, always an anthropologist. 

I followed the two men out into the corridor. 

"As soon as the dogs are ready, we can get a move on, Dr. Carrington," Simon was saying. 

"Will the dogs have to come with us?" 

"If we can't land close enough to the spot you've indicated, we're going to need them to get us there." 

Dr. Carrington nodded, but I knew he wasn't happy. He'd been nipped by one of the dogs, and had never gotten over his uneasiness around them. 

There was the bite of winter in the air. I should have grabbed my parka. As soon as I passed the message to the Eskimos who cared for our dogs, I rushed back into the station, shivering and rubbing my arms briskly, thankful that Lee had another cup of coffee waiting for me. 

* * *

The experiment I'd set up with the molds wouldn't be completed for some time, so after lunch I took a break and went to visit our Eskimos. 

The men of the village had been fishing in the ice floes and had brought back a whale; there would be feasting tonight, and tomorrow they would begin preparations for the long journey south to the spot where they wintered. 

I sat with them and helped carve creamy strips of blubber from the carcass, working our way down to the flesh. Every once in a while I'd toss a chunk to the dogs. These were sweet-tempered animals, not like the brutes that had been brought up here from Barrow to pull the station's sleds. 

The angatkuq or shaman was telling a convoluted story that had everyone chuckling when the headman's wife touched my shoulder and pointed to the Northeast. At first I couldn't see anything, and then there it was, a speck that was quickly growing larger. Close behind it was the storm front that had been threatening for days. My breath snagged in my throat as I watched the plane try to out-race the storm. 

I shoved my knife into its sheath in my boot, barely taking the time to thrust it into the snow to clean it, and ran for the landing strip. Some of the Eskimo men were right behind me. 

"Smith! Wilson! Kibbee!" The tension in my voice communicated itself to the ground crew, and they came tearing out of the makeshift hangar where repairs were accomplished. 

The wind rose, and snow started to pelt down. 

"Oh, shit!" 

The landing was rough, a ski broken in the process, but they had made it with minutes to spare. 

The cargo hatch opened. "Someone get these dogs out of here!" 

I spoke quickly to the Eskimos, and they rushed into the plane. Within seconds they were being dragged out behind the team of sled dogs. Men and animals all seemed panicked. 

"What the...?" I stared after them as they chained up the dogs and raced back to their village, shouting something that was lost in the fierce whine of the wind. 

Simon jumped down from the cargo hatch. A huge block of ice was shoved out of it and onto the ground. "Come on, men!" he roared. "We need to get this thing into one of the storerooms!" 

While Simon's men were busy dragging the block of ice toward the uppermost building of the station, the ground and flight crews were scrambling to get the crippled C-54 into the shelter of the hangar. 

"What is that?" 

"Believe me, you don't want to know!" 

"Barnes, go see Mrs. Chapman. I don't want you puking over your boots again! Lieutenant Dykes, the radio room is through there. Blair!" 

"Yeah, Simon?" 

"We want to put this thing in number 4. And we want it kept frozen!" He ignored the scowls from Dr. Carrington and Professor Laurenz. Why was the botanist involved in this? 

"We need to study this..." 

"We've already lost the ship..." 

When they realized that Simon wasn't paying any attention to them, they strode to the man who was watching the plane being secured. 

"Captain, this is under military jurisdiction..." 

"You have the say-so, so you have to let us..." 

"He doesn't have to let them do a fucking thing." Simon's smile was grim. 

"Is this what was causing the disturbance, Simon?" I tapped the block of ice with the toe of my boot. 

"No, his saucer was." 

"Saucer? As in _flying_ saucer?" My eyes widened. "A man from Mars? Amazing!" I studied the size of the block. It would be at least eight feet, more probably nine, when it was upended, and I could vaguely make out the shape within. Something that size... "What did the inside of his ship look like?" 

"No idea." The redhead who spoke with the faint Australian accent had to be Megan Connor. "Smart boy over there decided to melt the ice with a thermite bomb. He succeeded in blowing it up, instead." 

"How was he supposed to know it was made from some magnesium alloy? Even Carrington didn't blame him for that." A big, stocky black man with military insignia on the shoulders of his flight suit glared at her. "He explained that's SOP, miss. Standard operating procedure." 

She glared back at him, unintimidated by his size. "I know what SOP stands for, Taggart, and don't call me 'miss'. Why don't you just admit it? He screwed up. Wait'll General Fogarty hears about this!" 

"But thermite shouldn't have caused that type of destruction." 

"Carrington believes the thermite ignited the magnesium skin of the craft, and..." 

"There's a newsflash for you: magnesium burns!" 

"... there was some kind of chain reaction with the engines, and ka-boom." 

"That's not funny, Taggart," Megan Connor sniped. 

The lieutenant shrugged. "Some people have no sense of humor." 

Simon shook his head. "There's no use in regretting what can't be fixed. We still have our visitor from Mars to deal with." 

"How come he didn't go up with his ship, Simon?" 

The reporter answered my question. "According to Carrington, he was probably thrown from the ship when it crashed. The heat from its entry into the atmosphere caused the surrounding ice to melt and then freeze around him. He was encased in this block of ice for almost eighteen hours. Survival was impossible." 

"Especially when you consider that while we were trying to free that thing from the ice, Barnes sank his axe into its head." Simon swallowed. "He... it... Shit. Something green oozed out of the man from Mars' head." 

"Ah. So that's what made him sick. But if it had been in the ice that long... ?" 

"I don't know how to explain this, Blair." 

I gripped his shoulder to let him know I understood his frustration with something that was so far out of the realm of our knowledge. "Listen, Simon. There's no control for the temperature in the storerooms, but I'll see what I can do." 

"Find a way to get that temperature down." The military man who had been harangued by the double domes joined us, irritation radiating from him with every step he took. His face was concealed by the shadow of his flight cap and the raised collar of his flight suit, and his gaze was fixed on the block of ice. "I don't care what you do, Einstein, just do it. If this thing starts melting, I'm gonna hold you personally responsible. Banks..." 

"Keep your shirt on, General MacArthur," I snapped at him. "I said I'll take care of it." 

His head whipped around, but I had dismissed the overbearing son-of-a-bitch and was already turning back to the buildings. 

I trotted down the corridor that led to the number 4 storeroom and flicked on the light switch by the door. Simon had picked a good one. There were some empty crates stacked against the walls and a beat-up old desk that would eventually be broken up for firewood, but otherwise there was room for the slab of ice and whatever it contained. 

It was about 40 degrees in there, cold, but tropical compared to the temperature on the other side of the walls. I glanced around the room, my gaze returning to the two windows that were a few feet below the ceiling. They were double-paned for insulation. I went out to find something to break them. 

It took some searching. Simon's men had brought all the ice axes with them and hadn't replaced them yet, but I finally found a crowbar in the last storeroom I rummaged through. 

As I went back to Number 4, I could hear raised voices. 

"You have to let us thaw this being out, Captain." Dr. Carrington, no longer hot under the collar, but flatly emphatic. 

"Arthur, you don't know what that could let loose on this planet." Dr. Chapman, sounding more concerned than I could ever recall. 

"Are you insinuating he could survive this cold?" 

"No, of course not, but there are germs that can survive it. Germs our immune system would have no defense against." 

"Really, Hugo..." 

There was another argument going on as well. 

"Listen, Banks, I told him..." The captain had his back to me. The angle of his head was pugnacious, and his hands were fisted at his side. 

"Give the kid a fucking break!" Simon was looking just as pugnacious. 

I felt the ridiculous urge to chant, 'Fight, fight, fight!' 

"Problem, gentlemen?" I asked as I leaned against the doorframe. 

The captain stiffened but didn't turn. "You were supposed to do something about the temperature in this room." 

"And so I shall." I sauntered past him to the first window, hefted the crowbar like Joltin' Joe, and slammed it against the glass, shattering it. Cold wind whined through the broken pane. I went to the one beside it and repeated my action. Freezing pellets of snow started blowing in with the wind. "Think that will be cold enough for you, Captain?" I turned to face him with a smug grin on my face. 

I could see his face clearly for the first time, and the crowbar dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers. 

It was Jim Ellison. 

* * *

I sucked in a breath. It was inaudible, I knew it was inaudible, but I had the weirdest feeling that he heard it. "Jim!" 

"Chief." Jim didn't look nearly as surprised as I was. He took a step toward me. "Why'd you leave?" he asked in a very low voice. 

He didn't remember I had told him of the plane I'd had to catch? I opened my mouth, then shut it. Had I told him I had a plane to catch? I couldn't remember. That was one of the reasons I stuck with beer. 

"Can we talk about this later?" I really didn't want to be having this discussion in front of an audience. 

"Fine. But we will talk about it." He turned to Simon. "I have to remind you that this facility is now under military jurisdiction, Captain Banks." 

"And as I told you back there on the ice, that's fine by me, Captain Ellison. I don't mind admitting this thing in the ice is out of my area of expertise. Give me a Commie spy any day." 

Jim smiled, but I could tell his mind was elsewhere. "I'll set up a watch. Lieutenant Taggart will take the first four hours, I'll take the next four. Lieutenant Erickson, Sergeant MacAuliff, and Lieutenant Dykes can split the remaining watches between them." 

"Wait a second. You feel a watch is necessary? Why?" I wanted to know. "I mean the Martian Popsicle in there isn't going anywhere." 

"I can answer that, Sandburg." Professor Laurenz was unhappy in the extreme. "Captain Ellison doesn't trust us not to make off with our visitor while his back is turned. We've been arguing this the entire return flight." 

"While the Cap was trying to keep the plane from doing a swan-dive while he out-raced that storm. Really smart, distracting him like that. Almost saw all of us dead," Taggart snapped. 

Jim scowled at Laurenz. "Your friends are a little overeager." He turned his back pointedly. "It's been a bitch of a day, Banks. Why don't you and your men get some rest?" 

"You're right." Simon started unzipping his parka; he told me afterwards that he'd been on the go for over thirty-six hours straight at that point, and his second wind had long since given up the ghost. I knew myself from experience that all that time spent out in the cold would be enervating as well. "This research station is my responsibility, though, Ellison, these people. Give a shout if you need me." 

He and his men left, stepping aside for Tex as he rushed in, and then pulling the door shut behind them to keep the chill air from escaping. 

"I've got a message for..." Tex skidded to a halt in a puddle of melted snow. "Whoa! What in the Sam Hill is _that_?" 

"A block of ice." 

"I can see that, amigo. I mean, what's in it?" 

"That is a visitor from another planet, Tex." 

"A man from Mars?" He leaned over and stared at the ice, which was starting to clear in the relative warmth of the storeroom. "Holy hannah!" 

"Succinctly put." Not for the first time I wondered that no one had broken Professor Laurenz's nose. He had been one of the sources I had cited for my dissertation in botany, but the more I knew of him personally, the less I liked him. 

"Andrew, could I speak with you a moment?" Dr. Carrington and the botanist stepped away from the rest of us, and the head scientist began speaking in an earnest undertone. 

I was distracted from their conversation by Tex blowing out a breath and saying, "Well, shut my mouth an' call me late for dinner! They sure don't grow 'em pretty where he comes from! This Thing is uglier'n sin!" 

I squatted down to take a close look. No ears. One hand seemed to be reaching toward me, the fingers long and thin and splayed as if to brace itself for a fall. I gave my head a shake, positive I hadn't counted the correct number of digits, but it was dumb of me to assume that it would be normal for an extraterrestrial to have five fingers on each hand. 

Something drew my gaze upward, and I froze, and my mouth went dry, and I wanted to whimper. 

Its eyes were open and appeared to be boring straight into mine. I recoiled violently. There was such hatred, such malevolence... I lost my balance and landed on my ass. 

"You okay, Chief?" Jim extended a hand to help me up. 

"Yeah." I hesitated for a second, then accepted his hand. "Yeah, thanks." The feel of his palm against mine had me wishing I could feel it on other parts of my body again. 

His ice-blue eyes stared into mine. He held onto my hand longer than was necessary, and when he finally released it, his fingers stroked across my palm. I closed my fingers over the phantom caress, wanting to hold onto the feeling forever. 

"Uh... " What had I been saying? I glanced back at the block of ice, which was clearing even more and making what it contained too visible. "You're right, Tex. That acorn didn't fall too far from the ugly tree." 

I was whistling in the dark. All that hate and malice running loose... The thought of what that Thing could have done if it hadn't wound up frozen tied my stomach in knots. My reaction to it must have been visible on my face, because Dr. Carrington chastised me for it. 

"You're allowing its physical appearance to sway your emotions, Dr. Sandburg. As a scientist, you should know better. There is so much our visitor could have taught us." 

I made a rude sound. "You didn't look into its eyes, Dr. Carrington. I have a strong feeling that Thing didn't come in peace. Why fly over the North Pole, which is uninhabited?" 

Jim rubbed my shoulder in silent sympathy. "You think he was a scout, Chief?" 

"I don't know, Jim." I leaned into his touch and shivered. The chill of the room wasn't the only reason for my reaction. "Before today I would have said the odds of there being intelligent life on Mars were minimal at best. It's too cold, too dry, and the atmosphere is too thin." 

"Nonsense!" Dr. Carrington slapped his hat against his thigh restlessly. "Ah. Richards. Lieutenant Dykes was able to get a message to General Fogarty while we were out on the ice, but I'd like to send him further word about this." 

"Shoot, that's why I'm h-h-here! I got an urgent m-m-message from General Fogarty for a C-c-captain Ellison?" Tex was shivering now, too, and his breath was a plume of white. "Jesus, it's cold in here!" 

"I'm Ellison." Jim took the paper from him and scanned it. "'Fogarty to Ellison. In receipt of earlier radio transmission. Remove craft from ice with all possible care.'" 

"I'd say someone is in deep shit," Megan Connor taunted. 

"Didn't your mama teach you not to use such language?" 

She glared at Taggart, who returned it with a glare of his own. 

Jim ignored them both. He continued reading, "'However, use thermite if necessary.'" 

"Oh, isn't that peachy-keen!" the reporter sniped. "Looks like your ass is covered, Captain." 

"Knock it off, Connor, and give the Cap some credit for knowing how the Air Force likes things done." 

Taggart and Connor continued snarling at each other. 

"What else does General Fogarty have to say, Captain Ellison?" Dr. Carrington demanded. 

"Just to keep everything protected until he can get up here with his staff chiefs." He crushed the paper and threw it into a corner, then balled one hand on his hip and ran the other over his brush cut. "Okay, listen, Tex. Radio General Fogarty. Tell him the craft was destroyed by the thermite bomb, but we have the pilot on ice. Literally." 

"Captain?" 

Jim nodded. "Tell him Dr. Carrington and his scientists want to thaw the remains and do an autopsy, and are waiting on his permission. Will that suit you, Dr. Carrington?" 

"Thank you, yes, Captain. Gentlemen, I think we need to warm up. Andrew, if you'll meet me in my laboratory? We'll see you later in the mess hall, I'm sure, Captain." 

"Yeah." 

"I'd better let Esther know what's going on." Dr. Chapman had been looking at me intently. He glanced at Jim, smiled, and followed his fellow scientists 

As soon as they left, Jim seemed to forget all about them. "That's all, Tex." 

"G-g-got it, Captain Ellison." Tex was shivering more violently as he finished writing down the message. The susurration of the wind through the broken glass was a constant counterpoint to all conversation. "As soon as I get a response, I'll f-f-find you." He hurried out of the storeroom, not sparing a glance back at the ice and what it contained before heading for the radio room to send the transmission. 

"Hey, you could have asked him if I could send the story to my editor!" 

Jim gazed at her for a moment. "No." 

Taggart made no effort to disguise his chuckles, and she growled at him and hit his shoulder with the heel of her hand. He rubbed his shoulder in mock pain. 

Connor curled her lip and turned away from him. She pulled off her gloves and blew on her fingers, then reached for the camera that hung from her shoulder, aimed it at the block of ice, and began snapping away. 

"Jim?" Taggart nodded toward the reporter. 

"Let her, Joel. She won't be able to develop that film until we get back to Cascade." Apparently he didn't know about the station's dark room. 

"But..." 

I interrupted. "Lieutenant, we've had storms that last at least three weeks. It's unusual this early in the season, but it is possible that this could be one of them." 

He stared at Connor, the expression in his eyes hooded. "Three weeks with that woman?" 

"I don't think that would be a hardship. She's very attractive." That earned me a wink from her and scowls from both men. "What? Just because I prefer beef doesn't mean I can't appreciate a nicely displayed seafood platter." Esthetically speaking. 

Jim turned to his lieutenant. "Did you tell the Eskimos to stay in their village, Joel?" 

"No need to, Jim. They were harnessing their dogs and packing the sleds. Come daylight I think they'll be long gone." 

"They weren't planning on leaving until the end of the week." I didn't like the idea of our Eskimos traveling through that storm. It was my turn to run my hand through my hair. I caught the tie that kept it away from my face in my fingers, and it spilled loose. Absently I tucked the piece of braided leather into the pocket of my pants. "This thing must have scared the bejezzus out of them." 

Taggart shrugged. "Dunno. I don't speak Eskimo." 

Connor paused in her picture-taking. She wasn't the only one to roll her eyes. 

"Not Eskimo," I said, "Inupiat." 

"Yeah, yeah." 

"All right, if that's all, I suggest we..." 

A massive shudder rippled through me. The cold had managed to creep in through the neck of my parka, and I folded my arms across my chest, holding onto the dissipating warmth. "Excuse me, Jim. It's going to get really cold in here, even with your flight suits on. And maybe you haven't noticed, but the ice is clearing, and that thing inside is becoming very visible." 

Jim looked at it and took an abrupt, involuntary step back. He was pale. "Jesus. You're right, Chief. The watch will be every two hours. Joel, I'll send you a thermos of coffee." 

"Thanks, Jim. I'll be fine, though." 

"Hot shot tough guy," Connor muttered. "I'm going to see if Tex can get a message out to General MacLaren. I heard he was in Cascade. I was on the USS Missouri with him in '45, when the Japs signed the statement of surrender. I'll get the all-clear to send this story if it kills me!" She turned on her heel and started to stalk out, calling over her shoulder, "And you'd better not be watching my ass, Taggart!" 

Taggart laughed quietly. 

"You sure you don't need anything, Joel?" 

"Nah, I'm good. Oh, wait a second. Dinner!" 

"I'll send someone down with it." 

"Thanks, Jim. You're a good man! I'll see you in two hours." 

"Let's go, Chief." 

We went. 

The difference in the temperature was startling. I unzipped my parka, and Jim unzipped his flight suit to his waist. 

The corridor was empty. With Jim standing next to me, practically looming over me, it suddenly felt incredibly narrow. I stopped myself from fidgeting, but only just. 

"I'll go find Mrs. Chapman. She'll show you your quarters." 

"Why don't you do that, Chief?" 

"There should be enough room for you and Lieutenant Taggart and... What?" 

"Why don't you show me where I'll be staying?" 

"Um... well, sure. It's this way." 

I led him down the corridor to the area relegated to representatives of the military. Dr. Carrington had had frequent run-ins with ranking members of the armed forces, and took perverse pleasure in quartering those assigned to periodic visits in the rooms furthest from the station's population. Oddly enough, it was the one thing that made him seem human. 

"But then I really need to get to my laboratory. Dr. Carrington is going to want the results of the experiments I've been running." 

"We have a little unfinished business, wouldn't you say?" 

"Do we?" 

"Look, we might as well have this conversation now, Chief." 

"In that case maybe you can tell me when it was you forgot my name." 

"What? What are you talking about?" 

"Never once did you use my name." 

"Oh, come on, Chief. You're exaggerating." 

"You think so? How many times have you called me 'Chief' in the last half hour?" 

"Once or twice?" 

"Eight." 

"You were counting?" He looked intrigued, then shook his head. "No, I'm sure I used your first name." 

"You didn't," I hunched a shoulder, "but if I'm wrong, fine. What is my name?" 

"Blair." 

My jaw sagged. "You knew it? All this time you knew it?" When we'd been in the front seat of Henri Brown's Rambler, he had been making love to Blair Sandburg and not some anonymous body he'd met on a blind date? Had the drinks at the Hideaway made me totally stupid? "If you knew it, why didn't you use it?" 

We had reached the quarters set aside for visitors. "Is this where we'll be staying?" 

I threw the door open, and Jim stepped past me. His eyes kept cutting toward me as he gazed around the room, and I wondered if his interest in the surroundings was real or feigned. 

"Each room has four cots as you can see," I informed him. "You didn't answer my question." 

"There are five of us." 

I pointed to a door in the far wall. "There's an adjoining room. You can have that one all to yourself, if you like." 

"Where does this lead?" Jim crossed to the far wall, unlatched the door and pulled it open, to get a face full of snow. He quickly shut the door. "Never mind." He went to study the fat-bellied, cast-iron stove in the center of the room. Beside it was a can that contained kerosene to fuel the stove. "A little primitive, don't you think, Chief?" 

"This building housed our original living quarters; it's very well insulated since it's mostly above ground, and these stoves supplied all of the heat. Once the other buildings were finished, electrical generators were installed, and they provide our heat now." I waited a beat, but he sat down on a bunk and pulled off his boots, then stripped off his flight suit. "Jim, are you going to tell me why you didn't call me by my name?" 

"Is that why you ran out on me?" He hung the outergear up on a hook on a wall and stepped back into his boots. 

"I didn't run out! I told you I had a plane to catch!" 

"You did?" 

"Didn't I?" Damn, I really couldn't remember. I promised myself I would _never_ drink another Under the Wraps, not if I lived to be a hundred and five. "Well, I left you a note." 

"Yeah, and thank you so much. Did you have to leave it on my chest where everyone could see it? The whole flight up Taggart ragged me about my 'cute legs'." 

That hit me like a ton of bricks. I hadn't thought beyond his catching up with me at the airport. "Oh, shit, I'm so sorry, man! I didn't even think... Oh, shit. Is this a punishment detail? Are they going to court-martial you? Are you going to be dishonorably discharged? What are they going to do to you?" 

"If you can shut your mouth long enough, maybe I can tell you." 

"Shutting my mouth," I said miserably. 

"There's no problem, Blair." He was smiling. He took a couple of steps toward me. 

"There isn't?" I started to feel better. 

"You signed it with the letter 'C'. The men thought it was from my ex-wife, and I didn't see any need to tell them differently." 

I blew out a relieved breath, but my relief didn't last long. "Why would they think your ex-wife would be in the BOQ with you? Just how 'ex' is she?" 

"They're die-hard romantics and think I'll be much happier with someone warming my bed on a regular basis. They're partially right, I'd be happier with... _someone_... in my bed." 

The look he gave me made it clear that I was strongly in the running for that position, and I shivered, liking the idea of being sprawled in Jim's bed. Naked. His nostrils flared, and his eyes went hot as they ran over my body. I swallowed wrong and choked. 

"They've conveniently forgotten what a beast I was when I was with my ex. And she's as 'ex' as you can get, Chief. I have to keep track of her so I know where to send the alimony checks, but the last I heard, she was taking a job out of the states." 

"Oh. Well..." 

"Mind telling me why you used the letter 'C'?" 

"Well, you kept calling me 'Chief'. I wasn't sure how you would take it if I signed it with my initials." 

His eyes looked vague for a minute, and then he gave a snort of laughter. "No, I can see signing a letter 'BS' could be taken the wrong way." 

"I apologize for the note, Jim. I was a little irate at the time." 

"A little? I'd hate to see you in a full-blown snit." 

"Hey! I don't have snits, full-blown or otherwise!" 

"Of course not, Chief. Sorry. _Blair_. So that's what got your shorts in a bunch. I guess it's my turn to apologize. The drinks we had at that last place...What was it called?" 

"The Hideaway. You don't remember the Hideaway's name?" I didn't feel so bad now. 

He flushed, having picked up on the irony. Smart man, Jim Ellison. "Do you have any idea what was in those drinks?" 

"Uh... No." 

"I do. Pepper Pot Vodka. Dry vermouth. Clamato juice. Olive juice. After that first drink, I don't remember anything very clearly. When I woke up the next morning, my eyeballs were threatening to fall out of my head and roll around on the floor, and I had the hangover from hell. By the time I got my eyes to focus, it was too late, your flight had long since left. Since it was a flight to a high security facility, they wouldn't give me any information about it. I tracked down Brown. You've got loyal friends, you know that? He was reluctant to give me your name." Jim's mouth twisted wryly. "If he didn't consider me a friend also, I don't think even a threat to his boyish good-looks would have persuaded him that telling me would be the smart thing to do. Before I could find out where you had gone, General Fogarty ordered me to haul ass up here. Remind me to send the man a dozen roses. Anonymously." 

"You were going to come for me?" 

"Yeah." 

"I ... I didn't expect that, Jim." 

"You should have. Don't you have any idea how attracted I am to you?" He wound a lock of my hair around his thumb and tugged me toward him. "I haven't felt like this about anyone in a very long time, Chief." 

My mouth felt as if it was stuffed with cotton. "Uh... I... uh... " 

"Blair." Suddenly I found myself pressed up against the wall with one hundred and ninety pounds of G.I. Joe plastered against me. "God, the way you smell! Everything about you makes me want you!" 

He began to nuzzle the length of my neck. If I hadn't known better, I'd have sworn he was imprinting my scent on his memory. 

His lips were around my earlobe, and his tongue was rubbing along the edge and his teeth were biting down, and my thoughts splintered. 

One of the tribes I'd lived with in the Fijis had pierced my earlobes in a ceremony that was sort of the tribal version of a Bar Mitzvah. I no longer wore the rings fashioned from conch shells, but my earlobes had been sensitive ever since. 

I shivered and swallowed a moan, positive I could climax just from his attention to my ear. 

"Jim!" I was so hard I thought my dick would poke through my fly. "Please!" 

"Yes!" 

I whimpered as he thrust his thigh high between my legs and rubbed it against my balls. I could feel his erection nudging my hip. 

Jim abruptly went still. "Someone's coming." His breath was a warm whisper in my ear, and then he was a couple of feet away from me. 

"Huh?" I was dazed but struggled to pull myself together. 

There was a brisk knock on the door. 

"You okay, Chief? Just a second!" he barked, then waited until I nodded before he called, "Come in." 

The door opened, and Mrs. Chapman stepped into the barracks. 

"Captain Ellison? How do you do? I'm Esther Chapman. I hope I haven't come at a bad time. I wanted to welcome you to our little slice of heaven. Have you seen Dr... Ah, Blair! There you are. Arthur is looking for you." 

"He is?" 

"Something about the MacCormick mold spores?" 

Shit. "Yes. The experiment should be almost finished now. Jim, I have to run. Can we finish this... um... discussion another time?" 

"Count on it, Chief. Over a cup of coffee?" His smile went right to my dick, and I licked my lips and smiled back at him. 

"Sounds good, Jim." 

"See you later, Blair." He seemed to hesitate on the 'b' of my name for just a second. Had he been going to call me 'babe'? My dick started to get hard again. 

As I left the visitors' quarters, I heard Mrs. Chapman say, "Come to the mess hall, Captain Ellison. After having been out on the ice all afternoon, I'm sure you can use a hot meal." 

I wondered how long Dr. Carrington would keep me in the lab. I sighed and absently tucked my shirt back into my pants. I was afraid Jim would be pulling his watch before I could get free. 

* * *

Jim's POV 

"There's nothing wrong with me." I kept an unobtrusive distance between me and my wife, but the perfume she wore was still almost overpowering. 

"Jimmy, I had to go out and find someone who bottled _rain_ water for Pete's sake, and you _still_ complain that the sheets are too scratchy! I can't stand it any longer! I'm going home to Mother!" 

Carolyn's voice had taken on that fingernails-on-blackboard quality. I swallowed back the nausea and struggled not to put my hands over my ears to block the sound. 

"When will you be back? Dear?" 

"Never! I've had it! I want a divorce. Wendy knows a good lawyer." 

"Why aren't I surprised?" 

"You never liked my sister! Admit it! You never liked any of my family!" She began to pace the room. "Don't you dare fight me on this, James Ellison! I'll tell your commanding officer that you have a penchant for young men!" 

My mouth went dry. I'd never acted those times when the desire to fuck a man had become almost overwhelming. I'd just locked myself in the bathroom, turned on the shower, and jerked off, and jerked off, and jerked off. 

"That's a lie, Carolyn." I must have been attracted to this woman at some point to have married her, but for the life of me, I could no longer remember. 

"I'll still tell him." 

"Why are you doing this? I haven't given you cause!" Jesus, she made me so tired. "I've never been unfaithful to you, not once in the eighteen months we've been married." 

"Do you think fidelity is the problem? You could go and screw the neighbor's dog for all I care!" I recoiled at the venom in her voice. "It doesn't matter. You were a decorated war hero! I thought you would be in Washington, DC by now, aide to one of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, but you seem content to fly planes for the rest of your career." 

"You knew I was a pilot when you married me." 

My commander had told me that my chances of a position in the nation's capital had been squashed because of my wife. According to him, she didn't know how to play the game so I would get a desk job, how to flatter the wives of generals and politicians. 

I never told her. I never wanted to be cooped up in an office. 

Her mouth curled in an unattractive sneer, and she walked out, slamming the door behind her. 

I flinched, then looked around. These quarters were for married officers. I'd have to move out. 

* * *

There had been no women since my divorce, but I needed something, and I was desperate enough to cruise the bars for a man. 

The first bar, The Cat's Pajamas, was dimly lit. Romantic music, the stuff women liked, was playing on the jukebox. Nat 'King' Cole singing about Mona Lisa. Perry Como's Hello, Young Lovers. Mario Lanza's Be My Love. If anyone I knew saw me in this place, I'd never live it down, and not just because homosexuals patronized it. 

"I'll have a beer." 

"We don't serve beer here." 

"Wine?" 

"That we serve." 

"I'll have the house red." 

The bartender slid a stemmed glass from the overhead rack and selected a bottle from the rows behind him. While he poured the wine into the glass, I glanced down the length of the bar. The man standing at the far end was about my height and well-built, and he looked promising. 

"That'll be fifty cents," the bartender said as he put the glass in front of me and reached for the dollar bill I had placed on the bar. I put my hand over his. 

"And give him," I nodded toward the end of the bar, "whatever he's having." 

"It's your funeral," he muttered. 

"Huh?" 

"What?" 

"You said... Forget it." 

He gave me an odd look, went back to mixing a Manhattan, and brought it to the man. 

"It's from him." He pointed to me. 

He really didn't have to announce it to the whole bar. I was able to hear him all the way down at my end. 

The man gave a faint smile and raised his glass. "Good luck," he mouthed. 

I smiled and raised my glass, and walked to where he stood. "Hi. I'm Jim." 

"I'm Tim." 

I winced. 

"And he's mine!" A skinny little guy came storming up to us from the back where the men's room was. He wedged himself between Tim and me, his chin thrust up and fire shooting from his eyes. He didn't come much higher than mid-chest. 

"Am I, sugar cookie?" Tim blushed and lowered his eyes. I'd never seen a guy with such ridiculously long eyelashes. 

"Of course you are!" 'Sugar Cookie' frowned at me. "Go wreck somebody else's home, you!" 

"Easy, Mickey Rooney. All I did was buy him a drink!" For a second, I thought he was going to take a swing at me. Instead he pulled himself up to his full height. 

"This used to be a nice bar, Eddie. Come along, Timothy. I'm taking you home." 

Tim caught his hand and kissed it, and followed him docilely toward the door. 

The bartender glared at me. "I think you'd better leave. They're regulars, and I don't know you from a hole in the wall." 

Hole in the wall. That sounded pretty good. I knew of a place where there were glory holes in the restroom. I'd stick my dick in one and get a quick blowjob. Or maybe I'd find someone to fuck before I went home. 

I left some change on the bar and walked out. 

A few blocks over, down an alley, was a dinky little place that was as different from the Cat's Pajamas as a bar could get, the Nite Owl. Motorcycles were parked haphazardly in front of it, and beat-up jalopies that had been new before Prohibition had been repealed. 

At the door stood the bouncer, who was about seven feet tall, swarthy, with a smooth-shaven skull, bulldog eyes and cauliflower ears, and a ring in his nose. He wore a leather vest over his bare torso, and his beefy arms, which were covered with tattoos, were folded menacingly across his chest. He opened the door, and I walked into the bar. 

As soon as I entered it, the smells hit me, spilt beer and alcohol. Aftershaves and sickly-sweet colognes. Bodies that hadn't been near water since the previous Saturday night, if then. And underlying it all, coming from the back of the place, was the odor of urine and vomit and spunk. The skin at the base of my skull tightened. 

"Jesus, man!" I complained to the bartender. "Don't you believe in cleaning this place up? It stinks to high heaven!" 

Needless to say, that didn't win him over. "Whaddaya talkin' about, Mac? I gotta cleanin' staff that comes in every mornin'! Now either order somethin', or take a hike." 

"I'll have a beer." That seemed the safest drink in this place; nothing so gay as wine was offered. I just hoped the glass was clean. 

He filled the glass from the tap and slapped it down in front of me. "That'll be a dime." 

I fumbled in my pocket for the change and gave it to him, then took a long drink of the beer and looked around, checking out the talent. 

In the far corner was a pool table where a game of 9-Ball was going on. The two men, dressed in motorcycle leathers, were circling the table, sizing up their shots. 

Nearby stood a younger man. He couldn't have been more than twenty. His hair was neatly trimmed, his clothes were unostentatious, and he looked like Joe College. He smelled good, even from where I stood. 

There was another scent mixed with his cologne, the odor of sexual excitement. I could see the bulge behind his fly. 

"What's going on?" I asked the man standing next to me. 

"They're playing for tail. The winner gets to fuck Benjie over the pool table." 

I swallowed hard, becoming aroused in spite of myself at the thought of the young man being fucked in public. 

There was a final crack as the cue ball struck the 9 ball and sent it rolling into a side pocket. 

"I'd almost swear this game was fixed," the loser groused, and let his pool cue fall to the floor. "You got all the luck, Jake." He stalked out of the bar. 

The winner tossed his stick onto the felt of the table-top. 

Joe College, Benjie, licked his lips, and I heard his breath hitch in his throat. "Time to collect your winnings, Jake." He rubbed his palm over his erection. 

"All right, sunshine. Drop your trousers, and let's see if you're worth it." 

"You know I am." 

The other patrons of the bar watched avidly as the young man did as he was ordered. His trousers slipped down his lean hips to puddle around his ankles, and he leaned over the pool table, spreading his legs. His buttocks were taut. They clenched and unclenched in anticipation. The crevice between them glistened with some lubricant. He'd come here prepared for this. 

The silence of the room was broken by the sound of a zipper being lowered. The winner moved up behind Benjie, parted the waiting cheeks, and slammed into him. 

They both groaned. Pheromones flooded the room, as well as the smell of come as a few of the observers ejaculated into their pants. 

It was too much, and that was when the migraine turned vicious. Flashing lights, dizziness, nausea... 

My knuckles whitened as I gripped the edge of the bar, trying to steady myself. Fucking hell. I had to get out of there. 

The bartender glared as I swayed back and forth. "You get sick in here, Mac, you clean it up." 

"Telephone?" My jaw was clenched so tightly it ached. 

He jerked his head toward the rear of the bar, and I staggered in that direction. 

I found a pay phone back by the john and breathed shallowly to keep from vomiting. I called my friend, Henri Brown. 

"H, it's Jim. I hate to bother you, but I need a ride home." 

"Sure thing. Just give me the address, and I'll come get you." 

I blew out a breath. "Thanks, man. I owe you." I put my hand over the mouthpiece and looked around. The bouncer was just coming out of the john. "Hey, Gargantua! What's the address of this place?" He told me, and I rattled it off to Henri. 

"I'm familiar with the area, Jim. Be there in ten." 

"I'll be waiting outside." 

Henri was straighter than a yardstick. If he saw what was going on inside the Nite Owl, I had the sinking feeling I would lose his friendship. 

In ten minutes, true to his word, his Nash Rambler cruised to a stop in front of the bar, and I climbed into the front seat. I knew he was staring at me, but I felt too miserable to meet his eyes, and after a few seconds, he pulled away from the curb. 

He didn't say anything for a few blocks. I had my head between my knees and my eyes tightly closed. 

"Uh... Jim, that was a gay bar I picked you up at." 

"I know." 

He slowed. We were probably coming to a red light, or a turn, or something. I didn't much care. 

"Man, you're not gonna throw up on my floorboard, are you?" 

"No," I said through gritted teeth. H took good care of his car, but the idling of the engine, as quiet as it was, was like a pick digging into my brain. 

"Okay." He popped the clutch, put the car into gear, and drove on. I didn't need to see his actions. Each one was loud enough for me to hear and identify. 

"You gonna ask me about why I was at that bar, H?" 

I could feel the faint stir of air as he turned his head to look at me. 

"No." He drove in silence for a minute or so, then continued. "I owe you, Jim." 

"H, don't pose riddles to a dying man. I haven't done anything to put you in my debt." 

"Joel Taggart." 

"What about Joel?" How did my co-pilot get involved in this conversation? 

"He's my brother." 

"Huh?" My brain really wasn't working well enough to make heads or tails of this. "But your last name is Brown, and his is Taggart." 

"All that means, Jim," he said with exaggerated patience, "is that my mama was married before she married my daddy." 

"Oh. Okay. That makes sense now." 

"Mama would deny it, but we all know that Joel is her favorite. She cried like a baby when he was drafted. He was in your squad on that little island in the Pacific. You saved his life. I figure I owe you. My whole family owes you." 

"I was just doing my job, H." 

"That may be, but my brother is alive, and my Mama is happy as a clam because he is. And that's thanks to you. I'm just telling you this because I want you to know that your secret is safe with me, Jim." 

"Thank you." Now that the smells of the bar weren't overwhelming me, the migraine was easing off, and I was able to sit up. I leaned my head against the seat back and stared out the windshield at the road as it unwound before us. 

"Good thing you weren't in uniform." 

"That would not have been a smart move on my part, Henri. And lack of sex hasn't made me that stupid." 

"Yet?" I could hear the smile in his voice. 

I made a vague sound in response. 

He turned on the radio and began to sing along under his breath, "'Look- a here girls I'm telling you now, They call me Lovin' Dan...'" 

After a second, I joined him. "'I rock 'em, roll 'em all night long, I'm a sixty-minute man...'" 

* * *

H had rented an apartment off base. "You haven't seen it yet," he'd told me. "Come on over Saturday afternoon. We can go out for a beer afterwards. Just not to the Nite Owl, okay?" 

I should have known he had something up his sleeve. He was looking too innocent. 

When I realized that what Henri Brown had in mind was setting me up on a date, I was ready to turn around and walk out without even letting him know I was there. I hated blind dates. 

I could hear the soft rumble of conversation from where I stood by the front door. And then I heard that voice. It was like warm honey, and it seemed to slide under the waistband of my trousers and wrap itself around my dick. 

"I don't do one night stands, H." 

"But I swear this one will be better. Besides, he's a captain!" 

Brown had such faith in the phrase 'an officer and a gentleman.' We put our pants on one leg at a time, just like enlisted men and civilians. I would have laughed under my breath if I wasn't so wrapped up in those mellow vowels and consonants of the man who was with him. 

"You've already said that once. Nope. Not a chance." 

"Geez, Hairboy. You don't have to marry the guy! Just have dinner with him!" 

I found myself hoping Brown would be able to talk the owner of that voice into agreeing to go out with me. 

"Do the words 'no way in hell' ring a bell?" 

I rapped on the door to get their attention. "H. Hello." 

"Hey, tough guy! Long time no see!" 

I smiled at him, but I couldn't take my eyes of the young man who stood a few feet from him, packing. Curly brown hair with chestnut streaks in it. Deep blue eyes. A compact body of medium height. I'd have to lean down in order to kiss him. I licked my lips, wanting to taste that kiss. 

He paused in his packing and watched me equally intently, and suddenly I was inundated by a scent that was more arousing than any woman's Paris perfume. It spoke to me of cool, soft sheets that quickly became hot and rumpled; of bodies that glistened with sweat and writhed with sexual heat and want. 

I was lost in a trance. That had happened to me before, where a sight or a sound or an odor would almost overpower me, and I'd be trapped in limbo. I'd learned to compensate to a degree, and no one ever knew. 

I pulled myself out of limbo in time to hear Henri saying, "... meet James Ellison." 

* * *

It was embarrassing. I had no idea what his name was, and the longer I delayed asking, the more embarrassing it became. So I called him 'Chief', and I thought I was getting away with it. 

After I'd told him more about me than even my ex-wife knew, I almost fumbled the ball. "Why don't you tell me about..." 

But he hadn't caught my hesitation, and I was able to cover it with, "... you?" 

I loved listening to him talk. His voice made me hotter and hotter, and I didn't want to see the evening end. I told him so, and he took me to this place called... Well, there was a blank space in my memory. We had these drinks, and I also couldn't remember what they were called. 

But I could tell from his scent that he wanted me, I could feel it in the heat that was pouring off his body, and I knew before the evening was over, I'd be getting lucky. 

I already considered myself lucky. I not only wanted him, I _liked_ him. And he seemed to be really interested in me. 

Only I blew it again in the parking lot. We dry-humped on the front seat of the car until we came, and then ... Did I tell him how much I'd liked what we'd done? How good it had felt? No. I fell asleep. 

I fell asleep. 

In the morning when I woke up, I was in the BOQ, and all I had was a note that said, //Sorry I couldn't stay longer, but I have an early flight to catch. At 8. AM. At Cascade Airport. By the way, you have cute legs! ~C~// 

'C'? Charles? Clifford? Clarence? I winced at that last one. It sounded like George Bailey's guardian angel. 

I could have blamed the drinks, whatever was in them, and whatever the fuck they were called. 

I could have blamed the son-of-a-bitch at the airport who refused to tell me where the only 8 A.M. flight that had taken off that morning had been heading for, especially when I couldn't tell him the name of the person I was looking for. 

In the end I only had myself to blame. 

James Joseph Ellison, you could be such an ass. 

* * *

It was the following morning before I could track down Henri Brown. 

"You _what_?" 

"C'mon, H, don't make me repeat myself." We'd been going round and round for the past twenty minutes. 

"Jim, how could you have forgotten his name? Dammit, and I told him you were different." 

"I know. I'm sorry. I can't explain it. It was just that... " 

How could I tell anyone, even Henri Brown, that I'd looked at the young man-- with hair that I just knew would feel so good wrapped around my dick, and eyes so blue I could picture myself drowning in them while I thrust with slow, lazy strokes into the velvet heat of his back passage and we both came-- and he was all I could see, the beat of his heart was all I could hear? 

"Okay, Ellison, but this is the last time I'm going to tell you. Blair. Jacob. Sandburg. He's working up in the Arctic at a research station." 

I repeated the name silently. "Thanks, H." 

"And Jim, if you hurt him..." 

"I won't. I promise." I headed for the door. 

"Hey! Where are you going?" 

"To the Arctic. If there are scientists there, they're going to need supplies, and I'm the pilot to fly them up." 

"What's General Fogarty going to say about that?" 

"I'll find a way to sweet-talk him into it. I've got a way with generals, H." 

But it turned out I didn't even have to open my mouth. 

I decided that it wouldn't do to present myself to the General with Blair's come still on my groin. It had been like an aphrodisiac, and I'd gone through the day and night half-hard. 

If I could smell it, wouldn't others be able to, also? So I went back to the Bachelor Officers' Quarters to shower and change. 

"Jim!" 

"What, Joel?" I had a towel slung around my neck, and I was pulling on my pants. "You want to make fun of my legs some more?" 

"Well, it's nice to know your wife appreciates your legs." 

Not my wife, but Joel had no idea I liked men; Henri had kept that secret even from his big brother, and I wasn't about to tell him. 

"Anyway, General Fogarty wants to see us. We'd better haul ass. The Old Man sounded like he was ready to have kittens." 

I finished dressing quickly, then requisitioned a jeep and drove to General Fogarty's quarters. Hauser, his aide, let us in. "Captain, Lieutenant. The General is inside. He's waiting for you." 

"Thanks, Corporal." 

General Fogarty looked up from the papers on his desk. The skin around his eyes was tight and drawn, as if he hadn't slept in days. "Jim, I need you to fly to Carrington's research station." 

"Carrington's? Yes, sir." Damn. This was going to delay my plans to find Blair Sandburg, but I was military, first and foremost. "I'll need the flight coordinates." 

He rattled off the latitude and longitude. 

"That's the Arctic, sir." 

"Yes. Do you have a problem with that, Captain?" 

"No, sir." I'd be in the same general area as Blair. Maybe if he was close enough, I'd be able to pay him a surprise visit before heading back to the States. I struggled to keep a broad grin off my face. 

"Dr. Carrington has sent word that something... _large_... crashed about 48 miles east of his polar camp last night. It's causing a magnetic disturbance that's starting to effect transmissions as far south as Anchorage, and I want you to look into it." 

"Yes, sir. I'll call the field and make sure the Sweetheart is ready to go. Joel?" 

"Got it, Jim. I'll round up Erickson, MacAuliff, and Dykes, and make sure we've got insulated flight suits on board. If you'll excuse me, General?" 

"One moment, Lieutenant. I want you to see that additional supplies are taken on board. Severe storms have been predicted, and I don't want to hear it if they run short of toilet paper again. What the hell do they do with it? Decorate the walls? And you'd better bring extra units of plasma, in case this turns into a rescue." He waited for Joel to salute and leave before he continued. "I want you to take Megan Connor with you, Jim." 

"Do you think that's a good idea, General? You know that she and Taggart are like oil and water!" 

"Yes, well, she and I mix even less well! Get her the fuck out of Cascade, Ellison, or I won't be responsible for what I do to that woman! She's always asking questions the public has no right to know the answers to. I don't understand the Australians, letting a woman do a job like that." 

"Did she beat you at poker again, sir?" 

"That has nothing to do with it," he growled, and pointed toward the door. "And Ellison, make sure you keep me posted!" 

"Yes, sir!" I tossed him a snappy salute 

"Hauser!" I heard him shout for his aide. "Where the hell is my..." The door shut on the remainder of his words. 

* * *

The Arctic was colder than... Well, it was cold. The Sweetheart of Cascade could fly, but she couldn't keep the wind out worth a lick. I concentrated on the instruments and tried to ignore the chill creeping up my pants' legs. 

Joel tapped my shoulder. "Why don't you get into your flight suit, Jim? I'll take over for a while. And get some coffee while you're at it. Your teeth are starting to sound like castanets. It's very distracting!" 

"Thanks, big guy." 

He gave a snort of laughter. Joel Taggart could be a real smart ass, but he was one of the best co-pilots I'd ever flown with. He slid into the seat beside mine and settled his hands on the yolk. 

I unfastened my seat belt and went into the main cabin. My flight suit was hanging from a hook. I took it down and climbed into it, then poured coffee from a thermos into the cup that also served as its cap. It was still hot. I sipped and watched my crew. 

They were sitting around a wooden crate, cards in their gloved hands, groaning as Megan Connor fanned out her hand and said, "Read 'em and weep, boys." 

"Shit," Eddie Dykes snarled. Six feet tall, with sandy hair and light brown eyes, my radio man wasn't used to losing, much less to a woman. He threw his cards down. "Are you sure this is the first time you've ever played poker?" 

She smiled at him, the most angelic expression I had ever seen, gathered up the bills and coins, and stacked them neatly in front of her. Then she scooped up the cards and competently shuffled them. 

"All right, gentlemen, the name of the game is five card draw. Aces and deuces are wild, Jacks and better to open." 

I swallowed a laugh. I liked Erickson, MacAuliff, and Dykes, but when it came to women, they were three of the most condescending, patronizing men I knew. The Australian reporter was proving to be a real education for them. 

"Jim!" 

"Yeah, Joel?" 

"I'm getting a message from the research station! You'd better come listen to this!" 

I went back into the cockpit in time to hear the radio crackle with static. 

"Say again, Tex?" Joel requested. 

"Check your instruments. You're off course by about twelve degrees east. Adjust your compass reading." 

"Fuck, you're right! What's going on?" 

"Whatever it was that crashed last night is throwing off enough magnetic waves to send everything out of whack." 

Joel and I exchanged glances. This was what General Fogarty had been worried about. 

"Okay, Tex. Thanks." 

"Jim! Look at this!" Joel's voice was low and tense. "The compass is going haywire! There's no way in hell our instruments are gonna get us to the research station!" 

I thought quickly. "Listen, Tex. Keep your mic open, and we'll home in on it, okay?" 

"I could sing for you," he offered, and began to warble. "'East is east and west is west, and the wrong one I have chose...'" 

"NO!" both of us shouted. 

"Damn! No one ever lets me sing!" he grumbled, but he stopped. 

"We're coming up against some serious head winds, Jim." 

I checked the gauges and nodded. "About forty miles an hour." I did some rapid calculations in my head. "We're an hour out, Tex. Just let the head of your security know when we'll be in." 

"Will do, Captain Ellison." We could hear him humming, but mercifully he didn't sing. 

* * *

The Sweetheart of Cascade touched down at the research station's airstrip, and I immediately ordered a fuel line hooked up to her. I wanted this mission completed as soon as possible so I could ask about Blair Sandburg. 

A tall black man strode up to me, a fat cigar between his lips. "Captain Ellison? It's an honor to meet the hero of Vanuatu. I'm Simon Banks, head of security here. This trouble with our instruments... I'm glad you made it all right." 

"Thank you, Captain Banks." 

"Our radio has been crapping out periodically, but just before this last time we received a message that you're carrying fresh supplies for us?" 

"Yes. If your men will help mine getting them unloaded, we can take off as soon as my plane is refueled." 

"Good idea. We've got a break in the weather, but it's anybody's guess how long that will last. Move it, people! _Move it_!" 

The supplies were quickly stacked in the uppermost of the camp's buildings. The support staff could deal with them from there. 

Banks ticked off the scientists' names as they boarded. "Dr. Chapman, who really runs this place, and don't let anyone tell you differently. Professor Laurenz, Dr. Auerbach, Dr. Olson. Where the fuck did Carrington go?" Banks was becoming increasingly impatient. "Jesus, the man always disappears! Barnes, have you seen Dr. Carrington? Why can't he stay put? Ravn!" he shouted over his shoulder. "Get those dogs in here! And make sure they don't bite anyone! Allee, get that sled out of the way! Goddammit, the harnesses are tangling! Sowaiapik!" 

The Eskimos hurried to obey him, but they had grins on their faces. They obviously knew the man's bark was worse than his bite, unlike the huskies who snapped and snarled at anyone who came near them. 

The dogs finally settled, the harnesses were untangled, and the sled was stowed away. 

A last passenger entered through the hatch. 

"Dr. Carrington," Megan Connor called, "how nice to see you again! " 

So this was the famous scientist who'd been at Bikini. A man of medium height, Carrington was in his late fifties, although at first glance his white hair made him appear a good deal older. 

"Megan, my dear!" 

Joel scowled and turned to stalk into the cockpit. "Everyone else calls her 'Connor'." 

Dr. Carrington took her hand and raised it to his lips. "How long has it been?" 

"Too long, I'm afraid." She glared after my co-pilot, then gave the scientist her full attention. "You'll give me a story this time, won't you?" 

"Of course! After you were so kind as to sit on that item for the sake of national security, and then have someone else beat your deadline? It's the least I can do! Why don't you sit beside me, and I'll..." He yawned. "Oh, I beg your pardon! I've been awake for the last few days. Research, experiments, now this... whatever it was that crashed." 

"Not at all, Doctor." 

"Excuse me, Dr. Carrington. Are all your scientists on board?" 

He looked around at the men milling in the enclosed space. "Yes, Captain... er... ?" 

"Ellison, sir. I'll be flying you out to the location. All right, then, let's get this show on the road. Ken, Bob, secure the hatches." While my navigator and crew chief closed and locked the doors, everyone else was busy finding seats and buckling up. "Joel?" 

"She's ready to go, Jim!" he called back from the cockpit. 

"Roger that." 

The Sweetheart took off like the lady she was and made the trip to the site where the magnetic disturbance was emanating from with no trouble at all. 

I circled to find a landing spot. 

"Holy shit! Jim!" Joel grabbed and shook my shoulder and pointed down. 

Almost directly below us, encased in the ice, was a huge, shadowed shape. The wind was blowing snow over it, and it was becoming obscured, but it almost looked like a... 

"No. Jim, no!" 

"Joel, the Air Force has stated that there are no such things!" 

Only it turned out there were. 

Once I throttled back and had the Sweetheart safely landed, we disembarked out onto the ice, my men, Simon Banks' security team, the reporter, the scientists. The Eskimos stayed with the dogs, watching with questioning eyes as we fanned out and tried to determine the dimensions of the craft. 

Bob MacAuliff, my crew chief, carried a Geiger counter. He was just under average height, with curly dark hair and eyes the color of Elizabeth Taylor's. "Whatever this is, Jim, it's radioactive! The counter is climbing!" 

"All right, men." I shouted to be heard by them all. Megan Connor cleared her throat. "And woman. Spread out. Let's see if we can find out how big this thing is!" 

With heads down, we paced the area. Once we reached the outermost point, each of us turned to face the center, arms out-stretched, gazing from one to the other. 

"Holy smoke!" 

"Son-of-a bitch!" 

"Well, fuck me!" That last came from Connor. We stared at her, but she was too busy scribbling something in a notebook to take any notice. 

"Interesting." Dr. Carrington's choice of words was an understatement. 

There it was, an almost perfect circle. We had found a flying saucer! 

The other scientists were almost incoherent with excitement, but Dr. Carrington was more restrained. "Really, gentlemen, you couldn't be so arrogant as to believe that in this vast universe, the Almighty only created human beings as sentient life forms?" 

"But how did it get in the ice?" 

"I imagine the heat of its entry into our atmosphere melted the ice, and then it froze over." He stroked his fingers over what appeared to be an airfoil, a stabilizer of some sort, which was the only part of the craft that was free of the ice. His action almost seemed sexual. 

Dr. Chapman was also studying the metal with interest. "File, please." 

For a few minutes, the only sound was the susurration of the wind and the rasp of metal on metal. 

"Anything, Hugo?" Dr. Carrington had his hands deep in his pockets. Unlike some of the other scientists, he refrained from shifting from one foot to the other. 

Chapman made an impatient sound. "Nothing. I imagine this is some alloy, but I can't be sure what kind without some filings." 

"Well, we need to get this out of the ice, don't you agree, Doctor Carrington?" 

"Oh, absolutely, Andrew. And perhaps the rest of you would be so kind as to see if possibly the craft broke up upon crashing?" 

The scientists scattered to do as he bid. The security men looked to Simon Banks. He nodded, and they began to sift through the snow on the outskirts of the craft. 

"What would you suggest, Captain Ellison? To get the craft out of the ice?" 

I'd been studying the horizon uneasily. A weather front appeared to be building. I brought my attention back to the scientist and rubbed my jaw. "In a case like this, the SOP, standard operating procedure, is to use a thermite bomb to free it from the ice." 

"That does sound logical." He noticed I kept looking to the East. "I suggest we hurry." 

"Yeah. Joel, get the thermite. I think there's some in the sled, otherwise it's in the Sweetheart. Ken, we'll need the wires and the detonator. Bob, clear everyone back, then start digging holes to place the thermite. I want a bomb at each quadrant. Have you got an ice axe?" One of Banks' men handed him the tool, then paced off about a dozen yards and started digging as well. "Okay. Eddie, get on the horn and raise the station's radio man. Tell him to contact Fogarty. Have him pass on the information that we've found a saucer-shaped plane in the ice..." 

"That's no airplane, Captain Ellison!" a man I didn't know challenged me. 

"Barnes!" Banks snapped. "Let the man do his job." 

I nodded my thanks to the head of security but decided to explain anyway. "No, Barnes, it isn't a plane, but anyone can listen in on our transmissions. You see that smudge to the West? That's Siberia. I don't want the Russians breathing down our necks. Eddie..." 

"Got it, Jim. I'll send this out ASAP." 

"Good man. Okay, let's..." 

"Captain, can I send out a story?" 

"Not at this point, Miss Connor." 

" _Connor_!" 

I stared at her blankly. "Yeah, sure." 

Joel and Ken returned on the run, wired the bombs, and buried them. I hooked the wires to the detonator and unwound them until there was a safe distance between me and the craft. 

"Everyone under cover?" There were grunts of assent. "Okay, then." I took a deep breath and pushed down on the plunger with all my weight. 

For long seconds nothing seemed to happen. The bombs would work beneath the surface, gradually elevating the temperature until the ice melted and the saucer was freed from its prison. 

But it didn't work that way, not this time. This time it was a foretaste of hell, searing heat and thunderous roars as explosions ripped apart the landscape, making the very ground cry out. 

The ice itself seemed to blaze in fury, but it was the craft beneath the ice that burned. For an endless time it burned, and then the fire died down and went out. 

Banks and I both made sure no one was injured, then I turned to my crew chief. "Bob. Anything on the Geiger counter?" I asked tensely. 

"Nothing but residual readings now, Jim." He started casting about, searching for... what? Something that would prove his captain wasn't an idiot? The only thing that would save my ass from a court-martial for destroying the first evidence of extraterrestrial life was the fact that I'd followed procedures to the letter. If I were lucky. 

"Girl, are you all right?" 

I turned to see Joel standing over Megan Connor, who was sitting, legs splayed and shaking snow out of her eyes, and swearing fit to beat the band. 

"Motherfucking son-of-a-bitch of an explosion! No, I'm not all right, you big lug! I've had the breath knocked out of me, I'm sitting up to my armpits in snow, and my ass is wet! Give me a hand up before I freeze to this spot!" 

"Yeah, I guess there's nothing wrong with you." Joel helped the abrasive reporter to her feet and brushed the snow off the back of her pants. I glanced around quickly, but no one else seemed to notice the gesture. 

"Gone!" Standing and staring at the smoking remains, Dr. Carrington appeared to have aged in the few minutes it had taken the saucer to disintegrate. 

"It must have been a magnesium alloy," Dr. Chapman murmured. "That's the only metal that would burn like that." 

"All that knowledge, gone." 

"Jim! Jim! I'm getting something!" Bob was about a dozen yards from where the melted ice was starting to refreeze. 

"What?" The scientists converged on him, dropping to their hands and knees to frantically brush away layers of chipped ice to see what lay beneath. 

"There's something here!" 

"It's humanoid! See? Arms and legs!" 

"How big is it?" 

"Can we get this out?" 

"Yes, of course!" Dr. Carrington was once again like a young man. "This is recently formed ice. It will separate easily enough! Ice axes, Captain Ellison! We can hack through with ice axes." 

"You sure you don't want to use thermite again, Captain?" Connor drawled. 

"Connor, put a sock in it!" Joel jumped to my defense. He towered over her, but she stood her ground, her hands fisted at her hips, her chin thrust forward. 

I must not have been seeing things clearly when I thought he'd petted her backside. 

"Let's get a move on, people. That sky isn't looking promising, and I want to get back to the station as soon as we can." 

"What do you make of it, Captain?" Banks had rejoined me. I shrugged. "Well, the Eskimos have the sled ready. We can haul that chunk of ice back to the plane." 

I studied the size of the block of ice that had finally emerged dubiously. "It's going to take an act of god getting that thing into the Sweetheart. Captain Banks, as I told Dr. Carrington, the military has jurisdiction over this, our visitor in the ice, the research station, everything." 

"Ellison, I'm not being paid enough for me to fight you on this. I have enough trouble keeping these scientists in line as it is. They see no harm in transmitting sensitive data over airwaves that are being monitored by the Reds." He rubbed his gut. "I'm getting an ulcer over it." 

I shook my head. I wouldn't want his job for all the oil in Texas, only it looked as if right now, I had no choice in the matter. "Joel, go back and get the engines warmed up. Connor, go with him." 

"Why? If it's simply because I'm a woman..." 

"Look. There's a storm front coming up fast." I pointed to the east. "We need to get out of here ASAP. As soon as these men get that block of ice loaded on the sled, we're all heading back to the plane. There's no reason for you to be here now, so ..." 

"Okay, flyboy, as long as you had a logical explanation. C'mon, hot shot. Let's get going before my pants freeze solid, and you have to carry me." 

"In your dreams, Connor." 

"Captain! Captain Banks!" The man, Barnes, came stumbling up to us, his face green. 

"What's wrong?" 

His mouth worked, and he jammed his fist between his teeth. Tears streamed down his face, and his shoulders heaved sporadically. "Ice axe. In its brain. Green matter oozed out." He turned even greener, doubled over, and vomited into the snow. 

"Simon, I'll get him back to the plane." The tall, craggy-faced man Banks had introduced as Dr. Chapman slid a supporting arm around Barnes' shoulders. "Come on, Danny. It's all right. It could have happened to any of us." He led him away. 

Banks stared after them. "Six months he's been up here with us. That's the first time I've ever heard anyone call him anything but Barnes." 

"Jim!" 

"Yeah, Bob?" 

"We've got the block loaded, but the Eskimos don't want to go near it." 

"Shit. Banks, can any of your men handle a dogsled?" 

"A gun, a gal, a glass of booze, but not a dogsled. That's what we hire the Eskimos for." 

"Shit. Okay, promise them... I don't know, a date with Rita Hayworth, fifty bucks? What do Eskimos want? Promise them anything." 

"Would if I could, Captain, but I don't know more than a few words. I really wish Carrington hadn't been so adamant about leaving Blair behind. He speaks their lingo really well." 

"Blair?" My heart was suddenly thudding so hard in my chest it felt as if it was trying to get out. How many Blairs were there at the North Pole? 

"Dr. Blair Sandburg, one of our botanists. Good kid." He smiled, and I wanted to rip his head off. What was he to Blair? 

"You're... uh... pretty close to him?" 

"We're friends." 

There were friends, and there were _friends_. 

"Jim, what are we gonna do?" 

Fuck. I shoved the worry over Banks and the man who was _mine_ out of my mind. "Ken you get on the back of the sled. Bob, you and I will take the lead lines and run with them." 

"You think this will work, Cap?" 

"It better had." I stared into the East. "Let's get out of here." 

* * *

I cracked a landing ski, but we made it back in one piece. 

"They say any landing you walk away from is a good landing," Joel murmured as he shoved the yolk forward, stripped the earphones from his head, and unfastened his seat belt. 

"Who are they kidding? When General Fogarty hears I've broken another landing ski, he's going to take it out of my pay! Jesus, would you listen to those dogs whine! They've been at it the whole time!" I followed him into the main cabin. 

"They have? I guess I was so wrapped up in helping you keep us in the air that I just didn't notice." 

Damn. Was my hearing acting up again? 

"Good landing, Cap." 

"Thanks, Bob. Disembark our passengers." 

"Roger." 

"Eddie, hustle to the radio room and see if you can get a message to General Fogarty. I don't like that we've had no response to anything from the Sweetheart." 

"Will do, Cap." 

"Captain Banks, is there somewhere in the station where we can store the block of ice until I get word from General Fogarty?" 

"I've been giving it some thought, Captain Ellison. The upper building isn't used much any more." 

"Fine." The hatches were opened, and the huskies lunged toward freedom. "Someone get these dogs out of here! Look, that storm is right on our ass; my first priority is to get my plane secured." 

"Take care of it. I'll deal with my men and the scientists." 

"Thanks, Banks." 

He raised his voice. "Come on, men! We need to get this thing into one of the storerooms!" 

"Captain Ellison? Man, you just made it, Captain! This looks like it's shaping up to be a bitch of a blizzard! We'd better give you a hand with this!" The ground crew jumped to it and we worked together to make sure the Sweetheart would be safe from the rising storm. 

"Hurry!" I cast a glance at the sky. "Hurry!" 

"Captain!" A group of the scientists converged on me, and I swore. There wasn't time to listen to them whining about that Thing in the ice. "Captain Ellison, this is under military jurisdiction..." 

"You have the say-so, so you have to let us have access to our visitor!" 

"Time may very well be of the essence!" 

"We've lost the ship..." 

"Are you saying it's my fault?" I snarled. The scientist I recognized as Dr. Olson backed up abruptly. 

"No, of course not. No. But you have to let us ..." 

"I don't _have_ to do a fucking thing! I told you we needed to hear from General Fogarty. Once we get the all clear from him, you can dance naked with that Thing for all I care! Now if you gentlemen don't give me and these men room to get my plane tied down, I'll use your guts to do it!" 

They backed away. 

"Jim, Ken and I can finish with this." 

"Thanks, Bob. I'm going to see if Eddie was able to get through to Cascade." The wind was starting to inch its way past the collar of my flight suit. I tugged up the collar. 

Banks stood by the door to the uppermost building. He'd yanked off his cap and was running a hand through his cropped, black hair. Joel, Connor, and someone else were flanking the block of ice. I jogged over to them, the scientists trailing after me like Bo Peep's sheep. 

"There's no control for the temperature in the storerooms, but I'll see what I can do." 

"Find a way to get that temperature down," I snapped. These eggheads might have book smarts, but when it came to common sense, they left a lot to be desired. "I don't care what you do, Einstein, just do it. If this Thing starts melting, I'm gonna hold you personally responsible. Banks..." 

"Keep your shirt on, General MacArthur! I said I'll take care of it." 

I recognized that voice! Blair! I turned to him, but he was already heading into the station. 

"That's Dr. Sandburg. Don't let him fool you, Ellison," Banks remarked before I could call after him. "Blair might be young, but he's a damn fine scientist. And he's a good kid." 

My gut tightened. Had Sandburg been toying with me in Cascade? Had I just been someone to pass the time with until he returned to the man who held his heart? 

"Let's get this fucking Thing inside! I'm freezing my ass off!" Banks didn't notice my reaction. Fortunately, no one did. I would have been hard-pressed to explain my sudden antagonism. 

Once past the entrance to the building, the corridor angled down. We pushed and shoved the block of ice until it was over the threshold, and then wrestled it into the storeroom. 

Which had a fucking _outer_ door. "You want to tell me why we had to drag this goddammed Thing through hell and gone, Banks, when there's a door right into this room that we could have used?" 

"We aren't into winter yet, Captain, but we've already had some significant snowfall. The access to that door is usually buried six months out of the year. Did you want to take the time to shovel out a path?" 

"Sorry." 

"Don't worry about it." It was obvious, to me at least, that Simon was accepting my apology as grudgingly as I had given it. "That Thing in the ice is making us all antsy." 

I turned on my heel, studying the storeroom. Sandburg was nowhere to be seen, and I could feel the relative warmth of the area. "Little bastard. What did he do, head for the hills when he realized there was honest work to be done?" 

Banks stared at me in shock. "What are you talking about?" 

"Sandburg. We don't have time to fuck around. If this Thing starts melting..." 

"Blair isn't a shirker. I don't know where you get off even insinuating that!" 

"Listen, Banks, I told him..." 

"Give the kid a fucking break!" 

"Problem, gentlemen?" It was Sandburg. 

"You were supposed to do something about the temperature in this room." 

"And so I shall." He crossed the room, his stride cocky, and with what looked like a crowbar in his hands, he broke the two windows. "Think that will be cold enough for you, Captain?" 

I wanted to wipe that condescending grin off his face. Who did the teasing little bastard think he was, toying with my affections like that? I had half a mind to sue him for the breach of promise his body had implied the other night. 

Abruptly his eyes grew huge, and a flush rose beneath the stubble that covered his cheeks. The crowbar fell to the concrete floor with a jarring clatter. I was stunned by his response. I could smell it, the scent of male arousal; hear it, the tiny hitch to his breathing; almost taste it. 

The beat of his heart was like Gene Krupa on drums, and my dick grew hard, and I shifted as unobtrusively as I could. 

"Jim!" 

"Chief." If he was that happy to see me, then there couldn't be anything between him and the head of security. Tension I hadn't realized was tightening the muscles at the base of my head, signaling a migraine, abruptly eased. And then another thought hit me. If he was so happy to see me, why hadn't he stayed with me? "Why'd you leave?" 

He blinked, and his eyes darted around the room, reminding me we weren't alone. "Can we talk about this later?" 

"Fine. But we will talk about it." 

* * *

It took some time. 

I was in charge, this research station was my responsibility, and I needed to see things were under control before I confronted him about leaving me with that note on my chest. 

The message from General Fogarty let me off the hook about the thermite bomb. 

I was able to touch Sandburg a couple of times, helping him to his feet when he fell back on his ass in a surprisingly intense reaction to what was in the block of ice; backing him against Carrington when the older scientist took him to task for his reaction to our interstellar visitor. 

I was gratified by his response to me each time. 

I informed the scientists that we'd have to hear from Fogarty before they could have the Thing in the ice, and that got them off my back, at least temporarily. 

I set up four-hour watches. Then I got a look at that Thing in the ice's eyes, and I cut the watches from four hours to two. 

Finally, we left Joel to the freezing solitude of that storeroom, and I persuaded Sandburg to show me to the quarters that had been allocated to me and my men, instead of having Mrs. Chapman do that, as he had first intended. 

"But then I really need to get to my laboratory." He led me down the corridor, and I took the opportunity to admire the view from the rear. "Dr. Carrington is going to want the results of the experiments I've been running." 

"We have a little unfinished business, wouldn't you say?" 

"Do we?" He stopped short to look at me, and I managed to get my eyes up to his face before he realized I was groping his ass with my eyes. 

"Look, we might as well have this conversation now, Chief." 

"In that case maybe you can tell me when it was you forgot my name." 

"What? What are you talking about?" I hadn't forgotten his name, I'd just been so out in limbo that I'd missed it completely. 

"Never once did you use my name." 

"Oh, come on, Chief. You're exaggerating." Damn Dale Carnegie for his book about winning friends and influencing people. I'd tried to let Blair know how much I liked him by using his name as frequently as I could, only I'd had to use 'Chief', and it looked like that was coming back to smack me in the mouth. 

"You think so? How many times have you called me 'Chief' in the last half hour?" 

"Once or twice?" 

"Eight." 

"You were counting?" I was flattered. He'd been paying close enough attention that he actually knew the number of times I had called him 'Chief'. "No, I'm sure I used your first name." I had to have called him 'Blair' at least once. 

"You didn't," he huffed, "but if I'm wrong, fine. What is my name?" 

"Blair." I took the opportunity to enjoy his flustered expression. 

"You knew it? All this time you knew it?" 

In a split second his expression smoothed, and maybe he could fool other people into thinking he was indifferent to the fact that I did know his name, but I could see he was pleased. I wondered what was going on in his mind. Whatever it was, I wasn't going to admit that I'd been so fascinated by the sight and scent of him that the introduction had gone right over my head. 

"If you knew it, why didn't you use it?" He stopped in front of a door that was just one of several in this corridor that looked the same. 

//Think fast, Ellison.// "Is this where we'll be staying?" I walked past him into the room, making a production of examining it, but it was like every army barracks I had ever been in, cots in each corner, footlockers at the foot of each cot. I was actually watching Blair from the corner of my eye. 

He gave a brief, cursory run-down of the polar camp, but returned almost immediately to the topic that seemed to concern him most. "Jim, are you going to tell me why you didn't call me by my name?" 

The best defense was a good offense. "Is that why you ran out on me?" 

"I didn't run out!" He was disconcerted. "I told you I had a plane to catch!" 

"You did?" 

"Didn't I?" His brow furrowed as if he was trying to recall and not succeeding very well. "Well, I left you a note." 

"Yeah, and thank you so much. Did you have to leave it on my chest where everyone could see it? The whole flight up Taggart ragged me about my 'cute legs'." 

I had meant it as a joke, but he was suddenly distraught. 

"Oh, shit, I'm so sorry, man!" Color drained from his face. "I didn't even think... Oh, shit. Is this a punishment detail? Are they going to court-martial you? Are you going to be dishonorably discharged? What are they going to do to you?" 

"If you can shut your mouth long enough, maybe I can tell you." I was touched that he was so concerned for my future. The military didn't look kindly on sexual preferences that were anything other than what was considered the norm. 

"Shutting my mouth." He looked so distressed. I didn't want him looking distressed. 

"There's no problem, Blair." I couldn't resist stepping closer to him. He wasn't wearing aftershave; there was stubble on his cheeks and chin, and I assumed he was growing in a beard to ward off the Arctic chill. Whatever scent he was wearing roused me as nothing I could remember. 

"There isn't?" 

"You signed it with the letter 'C'. The men thought it was from my ex-wife, and I didn't see any need to tell them differently." 

"Why would they think your ex-wife would be in the BOQ with you? Just how 'ex' is she?" 

Was he jealous? I kind of liked the idea of him being green-eyed. "They're die-hard romantics and think I'll be much happier with someone warming my bed on a regular basis. They're partially right, I'd be happier with... _someone_... in my bed." He blushed at my flirting, and I continued, "They've conveniently forgotten what a beast I was when I was with my ex. And she's as 'ex' as you can get, Chief. I have to keep track of her so I know where to send the alimony checks," and I wished she'd find some other poor schnook to marry. It wasn't paying the alimony so much as the fact that I was still tied to her through it. "But the last I heard, she was taking a job out of the states." 

"Oh. Well..." 

"Mind telling me why you used the letter 'C'?" If it wasn't his first initial, as I now knew, then what the hell did it stand for? 

"Well, you kept calling me 'Chief'. I wasn't sure how you would take it if I signed it with my initials." 

I started to laugh. "No, I can see signing a letter 'BS' could be taken the wrong way." 

"I apologize for the note, Jim. I was a little irate at the time." 

"A little? I'd hate to see you in a full-blown snit." 

"Hey! I don't have snits, full-blown or otherwise!" 

"Of course not, Chief. Sorry. _Blair_. So that's what got your shorts in a bunch. I guess it's my turn to apologize." I decided I'd give him part of the truth. "The drinks we had at that last place...What was it called?" 

"The Hideaway. You don't remember the Hideaway's name?" 

After we'd left Machu-Picchu, I didn't remember much about anything. "Do you have any idea what was in those drinks?" 

"Uh... No." 

"I do." I could identify every ingredient. "Pepper Pot Vodka. Dry vermouth. Clamato juice. Olive juice. After that first drink, I don't remember anything very clearly." My senses had overloaded. "When I woke up the next morning..." 

When I explained about reaching the airport too late, he looked devastated. When I told him of my attempts to get the information from Henri Brown, he looked tickled. And when I told him of my intention to track him down and get things sorted between us, he looked like a kid on Christmas morning, finding that Santa had left everything he'd asked for under the tree. 

"You were going to come for me?" Why was he so surprised? 

"Yeah." 

"I ... I didn't expect that, Jim." 

"You should have. Don't you have any idea how attracted I am to you? I haven't felt like this about anyone in a very long time, Chief." Ever, but I didn't want to scare him off. 

"Uh... I... uh... " 

"Blair. God, the way you smell! Everything about you makes me want you!" I had him backed up against a wall, breathing in his scent. I worried his earlobe and learned something very interesting about Blair Sandburg. His earlobes were a highly erogenous zone. I licked and sucked and nipped them. 

"Jim! Please!" Blair begging had me hard. 

"Yes!" I brought my thigh up against the vee of his legs, intent on pleasuring him until he couldn't remember which end was up. I wanted to make him come in his pants like a randy kid. And I was sure I wouldn't be far behind him. The last time my dick had been this hard was... 

I was pretty sure it was the other night when I'd also been with Blair. 

His breath was coming in pants and hitches, and I wallowed in the heat that rolled off him, burning the skin at the base of my throat. 

A noise in the corridor jerked me out of my sensual haze. "Someone's coming." 

"Huh?" He looked as dazed and shell-shocked as I felt. I could have howled in frustration. 

"You okay, Chief? Just a second!" I snarled at the hapless door. I didn't want anyone to see Blair looking like that except me. I gave him a minute to pull himself together, then growled, "Come in." 

A pleasant-looking woman of indeterminate age entered. "Captain Ellison? How do you do? I'm Esther Chapman. I hope I haven't come at a bad time. I wanted to welcome you to our little slice of heaven." Her smile was warm and motherly, and I found myself liking her. "Have you seen Dr... Ah, Blair! There you are. Arthur is looking for you." 

"He is?" Blair sounded less than enthusiastic. 

"Something about the MacCormick mold spores?" 

"Yes. The experiment should be almost finished now. Jim, I have to run. Can we finish this... um... discussion another time?" 

"Count on it, Chief. Over a cup of coffee?" 

"Sounds good, Jim." Oh, that voice. 

"See you later, Blair." I watched him as he left the room. He paused just before he shut the door, and I was willing to swear I could hear his pants slide over his cock and balls as he adjusted himself. 

"Come to the mess hall, Captain Ellison. After having been out on the ice all afternoon, I'm sure you can use a hot meal." 

"Yes, ma'am." I hoped Mrs. Chapman would think the grin on my face was anticipation at the notion of having something hot in my stomach, and not wolfish at the thought of something hot, like Blair's lips, wrapped around my dick. 

I turned away, pretending to search for something in a pocket of my flight suit. Once I was certain I had my expression under control once more, I turned back and was startled when she reached up to cup my cheek. Her eyes searched mine, and then they crinkled in a smile. 

I swallowed and gestured toward the door. "After you?" 

"Thank you, Captain Ellison. It's such a pleasure to meet someone in this station with manners. Aside from my husband, of course, and Blair. The scientists here tend to get so enthralled with their experiments and their discoveries, and their constant quest for knowledge that they tend to forget the niceties that make it easier to get along together in society." 

"Oh? Have you... uh... known Blair long?" 

Mrs. Chapman didn't question that I'd ignored mention of the other scientists and asked about the man I wanted for my lover. "We met him when Hugo was teaching a course in mineralogy at Rainier University. He must have been about sixteen, a heart-stealer even then, and he didn't even know it. We stayed in touch through the years and were overjoyed when, a couple of years ago, after he'd been awarded his doctorate in botany, Dr. Stern, who's the head botanist on this project, persuaded Dr. Carrington he'd be perfect to join our little band." 

"Blair's a botanist?" 

"Didn't you know?" 

I'd had no idea. "From his conversation, I'd gathered he was an anthropologist." 

"That's what he would have preferred, but his mentor at Rainier University persuaded him otherwise." She arched her eyebrow at the sound I made. "Please don't think Blair regrets his choice. He's since told us that it had been impossible for him to find a Sentinel, which would have been the topic of his dissertation." 

"A sentinel? You mean like a scout?" 

"No, actually more like a watchman." 

"Sorry, that really doesn't seem interesting." 

"Ask Blair to explain it to you sometime, Captain Ellison. You'll find it's very interesting. You see, these watchmen had enhanced senses. They used these senses to protect the tribe, to track weather patterns, the movement of game, the approach of enemies." 

I remembered that little island in the Pacific and the machine gun nest camouflaged with bushes and palm fronds, the sharp scent of the Japs' excitement, the subtle noises they made as they shifted behind their machine guns, the sour odor of my own men's fear. 

"There are actually people like these sentinels today?" 

"Blair was able to find a few with one or two enhanced senses, but none with all five. Well, it was our good fortune. He's an excellent botanist, and Dr. Stern, who's the head botanist in this station, has been considering Blair as his assistant instead of Andrew Laurenz. Much of Professor Laurenz's research has been given to Blair, this experiment with the MacCormick molds for example. He has seniority over Blair, and he isn't pleased with this turn of events." 

"And I thought things could be cut-throat in the military." 

"Don't you believe it for a moment, Captain. You haven't seen down-and-dirty until you've seen what scientists are willing to do in their search for more knowledge. And here we are at the mess hall." 

I was about to push the door open for her when she touched my arm. 

"Captain Ellison, Hugo and I don't have children, but Blair Sandburg is the son of our heart. Blair thinks because I was born at night, I was born _last_ night." There was amusement in her eyes. 

I was startled by her words. "Excuse me?" 

"I'm quite aware he likes men, although I've never felt the need to discuss it with him. I'm also aware I walked in on something earlier, for which I do apologize." 

"No, ma'am, I assure you..." 

"Captain, Blair is very tidy; he usually keeps his shirt tucked into his trousers." 

"What... You... I don't..." My face felt hot. I cleared my throat. "Ma'am?" 

"Let me put it like this. Neither my husband nor I would be happy if Blair were unhappy." 

She nodded toward the door and I opened it, and she entered the mess hall. I was right behind her, and there was another surprise waiting for me in the room. 

Only this one wasn't as enjoyable as finding Blair Sandburg at this particular polar camp. 

I heard the voice, but I assured myself it couldn't be _her_. God would not be so unfair as to maroon me at the top of the world in the middle of a blizzard, my plane disabled by a smashed landing ski, with the one person guaranteed to drive me to the brink of slicing my own throat. 

The almighty must have been laughing up his sleeve at the predicament I found myself in. 

"Jimmy!" My ex-wife glared at me. She didn't sound any happier to see me than I was to see her. 

"Hello, Carolyn." My stomach started churning out acid. "I didn't expect to see you at the North Pole. You always claimed to hate cold weather. When you said you were getting a job out of the states, somehow I pictured someplace like Hawaii." 

"Don't you take that long-suffering tone with me, James Joseph Ellison!" 

"Sorry. How have you been?" I just bit back the 'dear' that had become a conditioned reflex toward the end of our marriage. 

"As if you care! Daddy won't hire me for his firm, he says women should stay in the kitchen, they're happier there, and they don't have the aptitude for office work. I can barely get by on the pittance your lawyer saw to it was all I would get, so I've had to get a job, and this was the only job that offered decent pay." Her expression suddenly became calculating. "Why don't we go back to my room? We could talk over a possible increase in my alimony. Maybe I'll let you convince me..." 

The room became so quiet you could hear a pin drop. I had no qualms interrupting her. "No, Carolyn." 

"... to take you back ... No? _No_?" I sighed. Nails on the blackboard. "Well, you seem to be following me! If you aren't, then what are you doing here? Do you expect me to believe..." 

"I was ordered here." 

Her eyes narrowed, her lips parted, and then they snapped shut as she realized we had an audience. Mrs. Chapman had her back to us, and her shoulders were quaking. Somehow I didn't think she was shedding tears. Station staff and security were listening, jaws agape. 

Carolyn turned bright red. My ex-wife was always careful to preserve her ladylike facade, and as a result, I was one of the few people to see what she was like when she lost her temper. 

She spun sharply on her heel and stalked toward the door, yanking it open viciously, pulling it shut behind her just as viciously. 

The occupants of the mess hall glanced furtively toward me before they quickly found other things to engage their interests. 

"Sorry about that, Mrs. Chapman." 

"No need for you to apologize for her, Captain." 

"Call me Jim, ma'am." 

"Do you mind if I ask whatever possessed you to marry her, Jim?" 

I shrugged. My father had been after me again to settle down. 'You'll be 40 before you know it, Jimmy.' 

'Dad, I haven't reached 35 yet!' 

He waved aside my words, something he constantly did when he was trying to make a point. Or even if he wasn't trying to make a point. 'If you don't get married soon, people are going to think there's something... odd... about you.' 

By 'odd' he meant queer, and I couldn't afford to have that sort of reputation, not if I wanted to stay in the military. I was starting to wonder if living the way I'd been, hiding my sexuality, was worth the stress. 

"It seemed a like a good idea at the time?" 

"If I may offer a suggestion? Don't let her catch you alone. She may claim to have no fondness for you, but she seems to have even less fondness for this job. I think she may decide you're the lesser of two evils." 

I groaned. "I appreciate your advice, Mrs. Chapman, but I don't understand why you'd want to involve yourself in my affairs." 

"Two reasons, Jim. One, I think she's very wrong for you." She ushered me to a seat at a long table. "Lee, a bowl of stew for Captain Ellison, and a cup of coffee. Lee makes the best coffee north of the 60th Parallel." 

She fussed, making sure I had a napkin and silverware, and finally I asked, "What's the second reason, Mrs. Chapman?" 

Her smile was satisfied. "I don't think Blair would be very happy about it." 

* * *

I entered the number 4 storeroom. A glance at the thermometer beside the door told me the temperature was 0, next stop, ten below. I was glad I had stopped back at the barracks and put on my flight suit. 

"Hi, Jim." 

"For someone who's been sitting in a twelve by twelve room with no heat and the outdoors trying to make its way indoors, you're sounding awfully cheerful." 

Joel Taggart gave me a broad grin and made a production of adjusting the blanket that was draped around his shoulders. 

"Where did that come from?" 

"Courtesy of Connor. Her heart isn't as cold as we always thought it was. She told me she felt so bad for me, sitting in here, freezing my ass, her words, by the way, with only the company of Plug Ugly in the ice there, that she brought me the blanket and that thermos of coffee you see on the desk as a gesture of good will." 

" _Connor_ felt bad? _Connor_? Why am I having such a hard time with that concept?" 

"You just don't understand women, Jim." He rose and tossed the blanket over a stack of crates. 

"Oh, no?" 

"No. She even brought a flask of whiskey. I had to turn it down of course, seeing as how I'm on duty and all." 

"Don't bullshit me, big guy. If you turned down a whiskey, it wasn't because you were on duty!" 

He rested his hand over his heart. "I'm cut to the quick, James!" Then he burst into deep chuckles. "You're right, although it was a little funny. Funny strange, not funny ha ha." 

I took the seat he had vacated and poured some coffee into a cup. "So, you gonna tell me about why this was funny strange?" 

He propped a hip against the corner of the battered desk and folded his arms across his barrel of a chest. "When I called her on it, accused her of trying to get me drunk so she could get a juicy story and win a Pulitzer with it, I thought for a second she looked hurt." 

" _Connor_?" 

"You're repeating yourself, Jim." 

"Yeah, but nothing hurts Connor! The woman has a set of balls that most men would sell their right arms for!" 

" _Most_ men?" 

"Hey, I got a pretty good set of solid brass ones, Joel. I don't need hers!" 

He shook his head, laughing. "Well, I must have been wrong, about her looking hurt," he clarified. "She just shrugged and said, 'Guess you got me, mate.' She stayed around a bit longer chewing the fat, and then she left." He frowned. "She said something about getting a story from the double dome." 

"Carrington? Doesn't matter. She'll have to wait on General Fogarty's okay to send whatever he gives her. I'm not giving the nod. I'm already in deep enough shit. I'd like to stay in the Army long enough to collect my allotment, thank you very much." 

"You sure of that, Cap?" 

"What are you... " I had to pause and take a deep breath. How had the conversation gotten so serious all of a sudden? "What are you talking about, Joel?" 

"Nothing, I guess. I just thought you might be tired of the restraints the service puts on you... on all of us. Maybe I'm just tired myself. That Thing in the ice... I'm glad my watch is over. I'm gonna have that drink now, then see if the Three Musketeers are up for a game of gin rummy." He was referring to Erickson, MacAuliff and Dykes. 

"Just don't play poker with Connor. She's a card shark!" 

"I know. Here, take my gloves. You'll get frostbite, otherwise." He tossed them to me, and I caught them single-handed. 

"Thanks, big guy. Make sure Ken knows he's got the next watch." 

"That Thing in the ice getting to you already?" 

"Smart ass." I offered my co-pilot a smile, although I wasn't certain how successful it was. I wasn't going to tell him that I heard a heart beating in the ice, that was impossible. I couldn't have heard another heartbeat. It was just the stress of dealing with... what I'd been dealing with all day- the scientists, the weather, the possible fallout from the destruction of the space craft that was causing me to hear things. "'Night, Joel." 

"'Night, Jim." 

The door shut behind him, and I glanced over my shoulder. 

The ice encasing our visitor was like a sheet of clear glass now, and its contents were so visible I couldn't prevent a shudder. "You sure are one ugly motherfucker, wherever you come from!" 

I read over the notes Joel had made, rose and prowled around the room to make sure everything was secure, and then sat down and searched the drawers of the old desk in hopes of finding some reading matter. 

"Eureka," I muttered. The bottom right drawer revealed a stash of pulp magazines with lurid covers, grim-faced men in slouch hats and trench coats, shielding vapid blondes with their bodies as they faced down thugs who had revolvers in their fists. I took the one on the top and began to read about Moose Molloy and his search for his Velma. 

* * *

I was deep in the gritty, noir-ish Los Angeles of Raymond Chandler. 

Philip Marlowe had been hit on the head with a sap, tied to a bed in a little, barred room, and shot full of dope to keep him under control. His jailor was someone who claimed to be a doctor. Not a nice man. 

I refilled the cup of coffee and was raising it to my mouth when the sound of the door to the storeroom opening jerked me out of the gumshoe's dark world. I lurched to my feet and whirled around, nearly spilling the coffee all over my flight suit. 

"My, my. Someone is jumpy." 

"Dammit, Carolyn, what are you doing here?" 

"I wanted to talk to you, Jimmy." My ex-wife oozed her way to where I stood and tip-toed her fingers up my arm. "I haven't been fair to you, and I want to make up for that." She was wearing an angora cardigan, one of those pouf-y pink sweaters that seemed to mold itself to her breasts. "It's so c-cold in here!" She shivered. Her nipples were quite prominent, and I suddenly realized she wasn't wearing a brassiere. "Can't we... go s-somewhere?" 

"This is my watch, Carolyn, and I won't be relieved for another half hour. You can talk here, if you'd like, or not." I hoped she'd not. 

She shivered again and came closer. "I'd warm up if you put your arms around me, Jimmy." She was using the kittenish voice that she and her sister both used when they were around men they thought were worth their time. 

"I can't do that, Carolyn." 

"Sure you c-can, Jimmy. All you have to do is put one arm here," she placed my right arm around her waist and rubbed up against me, "and the other arm..." 

"No." The perfume she was wearing was so overpowering that my nose shut down in self-defense. I stepped back from her. 

"Don't b-be like that, baby. We had such good times together." In what universe? Whatever passion we'd felt hadn't survived the honeymoon, and we'd become like strangers to each other. "We could have g-good times again, I p-p-promise!" 

"Carolyn, I'm seeing someone." I could see she wasn't thrilled to hear that. "And you should know better than anyone that I don't screw around while I'm involved." 

My lawyer had been able to keep the alimony within reason because she really had no grounds for divorcing me beyond the standard 'irreconcilable differences.' I didn't come home drunk and beat her, and I didn't have a piece of tail on the side. The judge conceded I'd have to pay her something every month, but not the two hundred fifty bucks she'd demanded. 

"F-f-fine. I'll keep this sh-sh-short. I... " Her teeth began to chatter in earnest. 

"Here." I picked up the blanket Joel had thrown over the crates and put it over her shoulders. She gave a full body shudder and drew the material close around her. 

"That's better," she purred, sighing voluptuously. "Now. About us getting back together..." 

"I'm sorry, Carolyn. I can't, and I won't." I managed a furtive glance at my watch. Where the hell was Ken Erickson? He should have been here five minutes ago. 

As if answering my prayer, the door opened and he strolled in. "Sorry for the delay, Jimbo... Oops. I _am_ sorry. I'll come back later when I won't be interrupting anything." He took a couple of steps back toward the door. 

"You're not interrupting anything _now_ , Lieutenant," I snarled. 

"You sure, Jim?" He lingered at the door. "Mrs. Ellison, how nice to see you again." 

She smiled up at him and fluttered her lashes. "Lieutenant." 

"Plummer, Erickson!" 

"Huh?" 

I gestured surreptitiously for him to get back in the room and breathed a sigh of relief when he finally did. 

"Her last name is _Plummer_! Carolyn, you'd better leave now; I have nothing more to say to you. Once I give Lieutenant Erickson my report I intend to turn in for the night." And if I was lucky, maybe I could find Blair and ask him to give me a tour of the station, ending in his quarters. He could show me his etchings, and maybe I could persuade him it would be in our own best interests to spend the night together. In his bed. He was a scientist; he would understand about conservation of body heat and all that. I cleared my throat. "Tomorrow is going to be a busy day." 

For a second I thought Carolyn was going to argue with me, but then she shrugged. "Fine." Abruptly she let out a gasp. "What is that?" She was staring at the block of ice, apparently seeing it for the first time. 

"Plug Ugly? He's the extraterrestrial man who came to dinner." 

"Not amusing, James!" Carolyn curled her lip. She threw the blanket haphazardly over the ice. "I'll just be going now, boys." And she sauntered out, an exaggerated sway to her hips. 

"Phew." 

I smacked Erickson's shoulder. "What was the big idea? You know we're divorced! Why would you think I'd want to be alone with her?" 

"Geez, Jim. You were with her only the other night! For chrissake, she left a love letter on your chest!" 

I opened my mouth to hotly refute that, than snapped it shut. "Never mind. Why are you so friggin' happy? The only time you call me 'Jimbo' is when you get laid!" 

He flushed a dull red to the roots of his hair. "Oh... Um...Y'see..." The smile he offered was weak at best. My nose twitched, and I suddenly realized I was picking up a scent on the flight suit he was wearing that wasn't Old Spice, his aftershave. 

"You dirty dog! You did get laid!" I could see his lips were swollen, as if he'd been kissing some woman long and hard. The red in his cheeks hadn't quite faded, but I didn't give it much thought. "Who's the lucky woman?" 

"Jim! You know the only women here are Carolyn and a few of the scientists' wives, and they're old enough to be my mother!" His eyes grew enormous, and he clapped a hand over his mouth. "Oh, fuck. I... Jim, please, you won't tell anyone, will you?" 

I realized his cheeks were reddened by whisker burn. So Ken Erickson liked men. I didn't think he'd have a hard time picking up a guy; he was about my height, with strawberry-blond hair and eyes like a stormy sea. I wondered who he had found to fool around with. I was pretty certain the scientists were too involved with their experiments to give a second thought to sex, so that left the men on Simon Banks' security team, and the lab techs. 

"I'm hurt, Ken. You honestly believe I would turn in one of my own men because..." I remembered something Blair had said, and smiled. "... because he prefers beef to seafood?" 

"I'm sorry, Jim." He looked miserable. "It's just... you know what the military is like! We'd be court-martialed! I don't want to spend the rest of my life behind a stockade, and neither does... Jim, you're not gonna make me tell you who I was with, are you?" His expression became stubborn. "I won't tell you who I was with." 

_We'd_ be court-martialed? That meant he had to be involved with someone else who was armed forces, and the only representatives of the military at this polar camp were my crew. 

"Don't get your shorts in a bunch, Ken. You're the best navigator I've got." 

I didn't say it, it was none of my business, but I wasn't going to lose him over something as inconsequential as who he chose to take to bed. 

I knew my men. They were smart, capable, and physically very attractive. If Erickson was fucking one them, then he considered it worth the risk. They both probably did. 

"Now, I want to get out of here. It's been quiet as the grave..." 

"Not a happy choice of words, Cap." 

"Sorry. It's been quiet. I finished the coffee, so I'll send someone down with a fresh thermos for you. By the way, I'm about halfway through Farewell, My Lovely. If you finish it, I _don't_ want to hear how it ends!" 

"Roger that, Jim. I'll just keep myself amused with these." He pulled a deck of cards from the pocket of his flight suit, flexing his fingers. "Damn, it is cold in here!" 

"Here, take these." I gave him the gloves Joel had let me borrow. They'd kept my hands warm. 

"Oh, one thing." He worked his fingers into the gloves. "Bob wanted to know if it was okay with you if he pulled a later watch? He mentioned something about needing to catch forty winks. One of Captain Banks' men said he'd be willing to take it." 

"What about Eddie?" 

"He's still working his tail off trying to help Tex boost the power for the radio." There was a discontented droop to his lower lip. 

"Still?" 

"Yeah." He circled the block of ice, eyeing it cautiously, keeping as much distance as the small room allowed. That must be what was bothering him. It had gotten to Joel and to me, why shouldn't it get to Ken also? "The storm's so bad it's knocking out everything they've tried to send." 

"Damn. I guess that puts paid to any hope of Carrington getting the okay to dissect our friend in the ice anytime soon." 

"Jesus, he really is ugly, isn't he?" Ken shuddered and straightened the blanket over the ice, blocking its contents from view. "Jim, do me a favor? Tell Barnes not to be late." 

"Sure thing, Ken." 

* * *

Once out of the storeroom, the temperature was uncomfortably warm. I didn't want to take the time to go to my quarters to take off my flight suit, so I simply unzipped it and hoped I'd be somewhere with Blair soon where I could strip it off completely. 

I walked through the corridors, grinning as I contemplated what it would be like stripping off Blair's clothes. I had no problem locating the mess hall, simply following my nose. 

The mess hall was dim and empty, however, and I sagged in disappointment. How long did Dr. Carrington work his scientists? 

And then I heard the muted sound of conversation coming from a door I hadn't noticed before. It was open, and light spilled through it. 

"Can you believe the cheek of that woman?" "I didn't think it had gone that far." "Talk about rubbing salt in a wound." "You really think she had any idea?" 

I didn't detect Blair's voice, but maybe he wasn't saying anything just then. I realized I was stretching my hearing in the futile hope of catching the sound of his heartbeat. 

I walked to the doorway. It was a rec room. A comprehensive glance was all it took to catalogue the contents of the room and its occupants. 

It was one of the few room I'd been in that had double-paned insulated windows. A sofa was stretched along one wall. Chairs were scattered around, and there were a number of card tables, one with cards scattered over it and on the floor beneath it, as if the hands had been thrown down in irritation, one with the remains of a game of Monopoly, and one with a chess board set up and a game in progress. A five-shelf bookcase held hardcovered books, magazines, and other games like checkers, Scrabble, and even pick-up sticks. 

That glance was all it took to verify Blair wasn't there. My crew chief, the head of security, Barnes, Mrs. Chapman, and Lee, the cook, refilling coffee mugs. 

The conversation dried up. He held up the pot and looked a question at me. 

"No, thanks." 

"Lee, why don't you go to bed? The men can help themselves," Mrs. Chapman murmured. 

"Lee, would you mind seeing Lieutenant Erickson gets a fresh thermos of coffee?" 

He smiled and gave a slight bow, and left the room. 

Mrs. Chapman let her eyes drift over me, cold and unseeing. "It's getting very close in here. I'm going to bed. Goodnight, gentlemen." She smiled at the other men, and deliberately ignored me. 

I stared after her as she walked from the room, her spine unbending. What had happened that caused her to be angry with me? 

"Hey, Cap!" Bob lounged in an arm chair, a leg over the side. He was looking almost... sated? I sniffed discreetly and caught a hint of Old Spice mingled with the Bay Rum Bob usually favored. "You just missed Mrs. Ellison." 

My mother was here? 

"I hear congratulations are in order." 

I was starting to feel uneasy. "What are you talking about, Bob?" 

"You're getting married again. I think we'll be invited this time. Carolyn seems to feel we've become more civilized." 

**"WHAT?"**

"Your ex-wife, I mean your... Um, what do you call a guy's ex-wife when he's going to marry her again?" 

Banks was watching me with flat, unamused eyes. Barnes was looking as confused as I felt. 

Had I fallen down the rabbit hole? "Bob. Explain. In words of one syllable, preferably." 

"Well, Caro... She said I could call her 'Caro,' Jim! How about that? And we always thought she was a snooty, spoiled society brat." 

"You blew a pretty nice alliteration there, MacAuliff," Captain Banks chuckled sourly 

"I think you're right, Captain. Anyway, she came in here looking all ... Gee, Jim, you really kissed the girl hard. If she hadn't admitted that you'd been kissing her, I'd have sworn someone socked her in the mouth!" 

"Let me get this straight. Carolyn Plummer was in here, and she told everyone that we were getting remarried?" 

"Yyyes. That's the long and the short of it. Of course she did go on about what a great kisser you were and how she'd almost passed out from lack of oxygen." I opened and shut my mouth helplessly. Bob blithely continued. "She said if you'd kissed her like that when you were married she'd never have let you get away, and now that she's got you back, she intends to keep you forever." 

No wonder Mrs. Chapman was furious with me. I'd sworn to her that I wouldn't let my ex-wife get her hooks back into me, and... I ground my teeth together so hard the nerves whinged in protest. "Let me make this perfectly clear to everyone in this room. I am not getting married. Not to my ex-wife, not to anyone!" 

Bob shrugged. "She seemed pretty positive." 

"I don't care! I'm _not_ marrying her!" 

Did she think I would let her get away with that? I'd let her do as she chose for much of our marriage, because I just hadn't cared. It troubled me to think that she saw me as a milquetoast. 

"Don't get your shorts in a knot, Cap. I'm just telling you what she said." He yawned and stretched his arms up over his head, and the sweater he wore pulled up revealing the shallow depression of his navel. Just to the side of his belly button was a deep purple love bite. Before I could remark about it he said, "Glad I saw you before you went to bed. Is it all right..." 

"Oh, yeah. Ken told me you wanted to pull a later watch." 

"I'll do the next watch, Captain Ellison. If you don't mind?" Barnes fiddled with a chessman, his eyes darting nervously from the head of security who sat across the table from him to me, and back. 

"Captain Banks?" 

"Oh, for Pete's sake, call me Simon, would you? Dr. Voorhees, our meteorologist, has predicted that this will be a mother of a storm, and we're going to be cooped up together for some time!" 

"Then it's a damn good thing we brought all those extra supplies." 

"Yeah. And I don't have a problem with Barnes taking the watch as long as you don't." 

"Let's face it, Simon. I don't have enough men to keep watch over that Thing. I appreciate the help." 

"Thank you for giving me this opportunity, Captain Banks, Captain Ellison. I promise I won't let you down!" 

Was Barnes embarrassed because he'd thrown up out there on the ice? We all had occasions when we'd been betrayed by our bodies. 

"I know you won't." 

"Well, I'm gonna catch some zzz's." Bob levered himself up from of his chair. "My ass is dragging. Barnes, I'll relieve you at 3." He walked out of the room, his gait a little stiff. 

"It's your move, Captain Banks." 

"Is... uh... is Dr. Sandburg still in his laboratory?" 

"Blair?" Banks took a cigar from his shirt pocket and made a production of lighting it. "He was here a little bit ago." 

"Was he here when my ex-wife came in?" Please god, don't let him have heard her bullshit. 

"Yes," he stared at the glowing tip of his cigar, "I believe he was." 

Okay, you didn't answer that prayer, god; he heard her. Please don't let him have believed her? 

"Did he... er... how did he seem?" 

"Fine." Just the way Banks said it made me know Blair wasn't fine. "Why would Blair care a damn if your ex-wife stated quite clearly that you and she had ironed out your differences and were getting married again?" 

Dammit. He believed her. God, you really weren't much help down here. "I think I'll turn in. Goodnight, Simon, Barnes." 

I took their grunts as 'goodnights' and left. 

The mess hall was filled with shadows. By the time I crossed the room and reached the door I was determined to find Blair and get this straightened out. 

"Captain Ellison." Mrs. Chapman was standing in the corridor, her arms folded across her chest, glowering at me. She was dressed in a long Black Watch plaid flannel bathrobe. Her hair was in two braids that brushed her shoulders. 

The fact that she was dressed for bed didn't make her look any less intimidating. 

"I thought I was 'Jim'." I half-smiled. 

"And I thought you weren't going to hurt Blair." 

"Mrs. Chapman..." 

"Your ex-wife, or perhaps I should say your _former_ ex-wife, came in about twenty minutes before you did. She announced that she wanted us to be the first to know the two of you were getting back together." 

"I know. Bob told me." I ran my hand over my hair. "And Blair heard that." 

"Blair looked as if someone had given him a sucker punch to the gut." 

God*damn* that woman! "We're not getting back together, Mrs. Chapman. I did not kiss her!" 

"Not even a peck on the cheek? She was looking rather mussed and well-kissed." 

"No, I swear to you!" 

"It's not me you need to convince." 

"Where is he?" 

"In his room." 

"And which one is that? Look, if I have to go through every room in this station, I will. And if I wake up everyone, I don't much care!" 

She stared at me coolly for a few seconds that seemed to stretch into the next century. Finally, she said, "Male staff are quartered down this corridor. Blair's room is the third from the end." 

I left her with a mumbled 'thanks' and strode to the door she had pointed out. On the other side of the door I could hear the rustling of clothes being removed. I took a deep breath. I took another deep breath. I raised my hand to rap on the door. My hand was shaking. 

I glanced over my shoulder, but the junction of the corridor was empty. I knocked. 

The door opened, and he stood there, shirtless, and I wanted to moan. His nipples, plump and rose-beige, peaked through the mat of curly hair that covered his chest and arrowed down past the waistband of his pants. 

I wet my lips and swallowed, but he spoke before I could. 

"You're in the wrong place. Miss Plummer's room is down the next corridor. Or should I call her 'Mrs. Ellison'?" 

"She's not Mrs. Ellison, and I'm not looking for Carolyn. I was looking for you." I spotted a vermilion love bite on the base of Blair's throat. I was ready to jump down his throat for letting someone else play vampire with him, but then I looked closer, and I could tell it wasn't brand new. I would have touched the mark, but he knocked my hand away. 

I must have put it there the other night, and I swore to myself, because I couldn't remember doing it. 

I stepped toward him, hoping he would back away, and I could get into the room with him and shut the door behind me. I couldn't take my eyes off his nipples. 

"Why?" He wouldn't budge. 

"We were supposed to have a cup of coffee at the mess hall. We were going to..." I was inches away from him. I took another step. 

"What?" He glared up at me. "Take up where we left off? I don't think so. You're going to remarry your ex-wife. I don't fool around with married men." 

Those nipples... I could see how tight they were, could see the tiny depression on each side where they must have been pierced. They seemed to beg for my mouth, beg to be licked and bit and sucked. I started to drift into a limbo where he wasn't mad as hell at me but instead wound himself around my body and warmed me to the core. 

"Jim. _Jim_! Listen to my voice! Come back to me!" His hands were on me, rubbing my cheeks, my neck, my shoulders, and I was back in the here and now. I made a happy sound. 

Abruptly I realized I'd never come out of one of those episodes so quickly. I gave my head a shake. "What happened, Chief?" 

"I was hoping you could tell me." 

I blinked. "What were we talking about?" 

"Your remarriage." And just like that, the warmth between us congealed and became as cold as yesterday's mashed potatoes. 

"Aw, baby, she lied! There's nothing between us." 

"Don't call me 'baby'. And don't tell me there's nothing between you. For Pete's sake, I can _smell_ her on you! Unless you've taken to wearing women's perfume?" 

"All of a sudden _you're_ the sentinel?" 

"Don't give me that crap! Chanel #5 is pretty strong, wise guy. I don't need an acute olfactory sense to pick up on that! And what do you know about sentinels?" 

I ignored his question again. Instead, I remembered Carolyn rubbing herself against me, and I started ripping off my flight suit. I took another step toward him and nearly tripped as the legs tangled around my boots. I stooped to remove them, then pulled off the flight suit. 

"Blair, you have to believe me!" 

"Back off, Ellison. You're not coming..." 

"Not yet, I'm not." I was right in front of him, and I wondered fuzzily why my shirt was still on. Blair was breathing heavily, his nipples rubbing against my shirt each time he inhaled, and if I didn't have it on, they'd be rubbing against my chest. I undid the top button, then the next button, and the next. 

"No!" 

I froze. 

He licked his lips. "If I let you in, you're going to... to make love to me?" 

"Yeah." 

"But we were going to talk first." 

"You want to talk?" 

His tongue peeked out to touch his upper lip, and he nodded. 

"Okay, Chief. We talk. First." I shuddered from want denied. "Then..." 

"No. I don't ..." 

"You don't trust me?" 

Blair opened his mouth, appeared to think better of what he'd been about to say and shut it, and backed away. I walked toward him. 

"Your clothes, Jim!" he hissed. "You can't leave them in the hall!" 

I growled, twisted to scoop them up, and tossed them aside as soon as I was inside his room. I reached behind me and shut the door, and very quietly twisted the lock. 

He seemed nervous; I didn't want him to be nervous. I smiled. //See, Chief? No one here but us harmless little lambs.// "You can tie me up if that will make you feel better." 

His eyes narrowed, and suddenly the odor of male arousal filled my nostrils. "Why don't you sit in that chair, Jim?" He licked his lips again. 

For a second I couldn't catch my breath. I spun the chair around and straddled it, resting my arms on the narrow strip of wood at the top of the chair back. The material of my pants pulled snug over my hard-on, and I rocked gently, and the pressure increased. 

"Hands behind your back, tough guy." 

Blair walked behind me. I was listening carefully. I knew when his hand slid into his pocket. I knew when it came back out. He was so close to me. His breath was warm on the side of my neck, little puffs that set my nerve-endings to thrumming. He blew into my ear, and that became all I could think of, the sensation that made my dick like a steel bar. 

He grabbed my wrists and tied them. I could tell it was a thin strip of leather. I tugged experimentally, feeling a slight give. 

"I was going to say, it's not that I didn't trust you, but that I didn't trust me. Y'know, it wouldn't have mattered." That voice like warm honey. I rolled my head against his torso, and I would have sworn I could feel each curl through my hair. "I'd have gone to bed with you anyway, Jim. And if you weren't tied up, I never would have told you that!" 

I groaned and tugged harder on my bindings. 

He walked around to stand in front of me and tipped up my chin. "There really isn't anything going on with the two of you, Jim?" 

I looked at him through slitted eyes, wallowing in the feel of his fingertips on my face, wandering over my cheekbones, tracing the curve of my lips. "I swear to you, babe. On what I feel for you." 

"What do you feel for me, Jim? Passion? Lust?" 

"That, and more." 

"What 'more'?" 

"How about affection?" 

His breath caught in his throat. He leaned down and brushed his lips over mine. They were warm, and closed. I parted my lips and touched the seam of his mouth with my tongue. 

"Jim!" His hands cradled the back of my head, holding me motionless, and he stroked the hollow at the base of my skull and took my mouth. 

I angled my head and tried to get him to deepen the kiss. Blair licked at my teeth, my tongue, my inner cheeks, and at any other time I would have been shocked by the needy sounds I made. 

I shivered as a hand dropped to my groin and began kneading my dick. My hips jerked helplessly, and I spread my legs wider. 

Blair leaned his forehead against my forehead. I could barely catch my breath. 

"This is the first time we've kissed, you know," he murmured softly. "I like it." 

"Untie me, Chief." My voice was shaky. 

"Not yet." He dropped to his knees and nuzzled my groin. 

I could feel the moist warmth of his breath, and I rocked up, hoping he would mouth me through the material of my pants. I pulled harder at my restraints, and the thin leather slid free. 

"Blair!" I brought my hands around and threaded them through his thick curls. "I love your hair," I whispered as I leaned toward him, raised his face, and brought our lips together. 

He sighed into my mouth, and I wallowed in the taste of brandy that lingered on his tongue. 

And then he reared back. "Jim! You're free! How'd you get free?" 

"I guess you weren't a Boy Scout, Chief. You really don't have much of a way with knots." I held up my hands with the strip of leather that had secured them dangling from my wrist. 

* * *

Blair's POV 

A glance at the clock on the wall told me I'd been collating the results of my experiments for almost two and a half hours. It was enough. If Dr. Carrington wanted to get blood from a stone, he could get it from another stone. 

I labeled and put away the slides. I removed my glasses and squeezed the bridge of my nose. I got to my feet and arched my back, then switched off the light to my laboratory as I left. 

I walked to the mess hall, trying to appear casual and unhurried, and smoothed a hand over my hair. When I was working I had a tendency to run my fingers through it, and as a result, it would often look as if I'd backed through a bramble bush. 

Mrs. Chapman was in the mess hall. She was alone. 

"Did I miss J... Captain Ellison?" 

Her smile was knowing. "His watch should be over shortly." She stepped closer to me. "You really like him, don't you. Blair?" 

"Does it show that much?" 

"Only to those who know you as well as Hugo and I do. I'm so happy for you, sweetie." 

"Well, let's not break out the shoes and rice just yet. I really only met him a couple of days ago." I wanted to smack myself in the head. I hadn't meant to tell her that. I waited to hear her disapproval. 

She laughed easily. "Sometimes, that's all it takes. Hugo asked me to marry him the same day we met. Of course, I made him wait a while before I said 'yes'. It will never do to let a man know he has you wrapped around his finger. Now, why don't you join us until Captain Ellison gets here, and unwind." 

"Okay." 

"Blair! You owe me a game of chess!" Simon stood in the door of the rec room, grinning evilly. "I've been reading up on some esoteric moves!" 

"Yeah? Let's see what you can do, Botvinnik." 

He stepped back to let me enter. 

"Danny, would you care to play Monopoly with me?" 

"Sure, Mrs. Chapman." 

"I'll take the Scotty dog." She began setting up the board and separating the money. 

"I'll take the convertible." 

Simon handed me a snifter of brandy. "I love the little civilized touches." 

I warmed it in my palms and took a sip. "Trying to get me drunk, Simon? Won't work, y'know." Except with those damned Under the Wraps. 

"Not at all." He took a chessman in each hand and held them behind his back, then brought his hands forward. "Choose." 

I touched his left wrist, and he turned it over to reveal a black piece. 

"I've had good luck with black men, Simon," I teased in a very low voice as I took it from him and sat behind the two rows of ebony chessmen. 

He looked at the white knight in his palm ruefully, shook his head, and sat down to face me. 

We were deep into the game when Bob MacAuliff, Jim's crew chief, came in; his walk was a little gimpy. Ken Erickson was right behind him, and the expression on his face had me looking twice for canary feathers sticking to his mouth. 

"Jim around?" The buttons on MacAuliff's sweater were in the wrong holes, and the tail of his shirt was half-in, half-out of his pants. 

Simon sat back, obviously relieved by the interruption. "No, he hasn't turned up yet." 

MacAuliff relaxed back against Erickson. "I wanted to ask him if I could switch my watch with someone else." 

"Weren't you supposed to relieve Captain Ellison, Lieutenant?" 

"Shit, yeah. Sorry, Mrs. Chapman! Jim's gonna have my head!" Erickson pushed MacAuliff upright, his hand lingering on the shorter man's back, and then headed for the door. 

"I'll fill in for you, if you like, Sergeant MacAuliff!" Barnes volunteered, for all the world like an eager puppy. "If... uh... you have no objections, Captain Banks?" 

Simon shook his head. "It's fine with me, Barnes." He leaned forward as if studying the board for his next move and spoke softly, so that only I could hear. "Danny's shaping up to be a good security man, but he just doesn't give himself enough credit." 

"Thanks, Barnes." MacAuliff smiled at him, a lazy, considering smile, and the younger man flushed. "That's great. I really need to saw some wood for a couple of hours. The... uh... the time out in the cold took a lot out of me." 

Simon scrutinized the crew chief. "Tell me something, MacAuliff." He turned back to the chessmen before him. "You have a tussle with a polar bear?" 

"Huh?" MacAuliff looked down and took in the condition of his clothing. He blushed, but didn't respond beyond, "Thanks," and righted himself. "Is there anything to read while I'm waiting for Jim?" 

Simon looked up from the chessboard. "Some scientific periodicals." 

MacAuliff shook his head. 

"Reader's Digest. Good Housekeeping. Look. Life." Barnes offered a tentative smile. "They're current. We get them with every mail delivery." 

"Whoa! Interesting!" He held up a copy of Picturegoer. On the cover was a photo of Rita Hayworth and her long, long legs. He sat down in one of the arm chairs and began to leaf through it. 

The room grew silent except for the occasion murmur from Mrs. Chapman as she rolled the dice and invective from Simon as I captured his Bishop. 

There was a sound in the mess hall, and my heart started thudding in painful excitement. //Jim!// 

Carolyn Plummer strolled through the door into the rec room. "Oh!" 

My heartbeat slowly returned to normal. 

"Oh, dear!" She made such a production of bringing her fingertips to her mouth that I couldn't avoid noticing how swollen it was. "I didn't realize you'd all be here." 

I looked around the room, then back at Simon, but he just shrugged. 

She straightened the drape of her sweater and smoothed her hair. "I wanted to talk to you, Mrs. Chapman, but since everyone is here," again with the everyone. What was she up to? "I just wanted you all to know that Jimmy and I... well, we realized we had really been quite foolish, and as soon as we can arrange it, we're going to get married!" 

I could feel the color drain from my cheeks. "Excuse me?" 

"Oh, yes. I just knew when I saw him earlier and felt that old feeling that there was still something there, but I wasn't sure if Jimmy felt it also. But then he asked me to meet him in the storeroom, and as soon as I walked in he _pounced_ on me and... " She continued speaking, but I couldn't hear her over the pounding in my ears. 

I gulped down the rest of my brandy, with no regard for its bouquet. "Congratulations, Miss Plummer." The word was like gall in my mouth. "If you'll excuse me? It's getting late. I think I'll go to bed. Simon, I concede the game." 

"Oh, no, you don't. I'm two moves away from 'checkmate'!" 

"In your dreams, Simon." I managed a grin. 

"Blair?" Mrs. Chapman was as pale as I imagined I was. I gave a small shake of my head, but she disregarded it. "Danny, I just remembered I need to speak to Blair about something. Would you mind if we finished this game another time? " 

"Oh, uh... sure, Mrs. C." He stared at the Monopoly board, then gazed around with eyes that looked lost. 

"Barnes, get your tail over here. You're pinch-hitting for Sandburg." 

His face lit up with pleasure, and he hurried to take my seat. 

I wondered if my smile looked as forced as it felt. "Don't make me look bad, Barnes. I'm one horse up on him. Goodnight." 

"But... but... what about my news? The way Jimmy kissed me..." 

I didn't want to hear it. Jim had never kissed me. I knew some men were nauseated by the idea of kissing another guy, but after what had happened earlier, I'd hoped that maybe... 

I bit down on my lip and brushed past Lee, who was coming in with a pot of coffee and some mugs. 

"Goodnight, Brair." 

"'Night, Lee." 

"Blair! Sweetie..." She stopped me in the center of the mess hall. 

"Mrs. Chapman, please. I picked the wrong guy, and I made a fool of myself. There's nothing you or anyone can say that will change that." 

"Oh, sweetie." She hugged me, offering what comfort she could. It was something Naomi never would have done. 

"Please. I just need a little time to pull myself together." 

She kissed my cheek, then let me go and stepped back. I walked away, trying to keep my stride unrevealingly sedate, but by the time I'd gone three steps into the main corridor, I was jogging. Halfway down it, and the jog became a run. 

No one was wandering the corridors at that time of night. They were either in their labs or asleep, and I made it to my room unseen by anyone, which was a relief. I didn't want to have to explain why I was consigning Jim Ellison to the most horrific circle of Dante's inferno. 

I made it a point never to get involved with married men. There was too much potential for hurt. At least two people were guaranteed to bleed emotionally, and a talented body in bed just wasn't worth that kind of pain. 

Now it seemed that the man that I had fallen for, so quickly and so hard, was as good as married. 

_Damn_ him for making me want him like that! 

And damn _me_ for wanting him in spite of it. 

* * *

"You should have known better, Sandburg." I sat on my bed, my head in my hands, and I cursed the both of us in every language I knew. 

It took a while, but I finally ran out of invective and finished castigating myself for being such a fool. 

"Oh, go to bed, you dope." 

As I pulled off my sweater, I was enveloped by a scent that I realized had to be Jim's. Not aftershave or cologne, because he didn't seem to wear anything artificial. 

I shuddered and bit back a moan, and threw it across the room. It was followed by two flannel shirts, the woolen top of my longjohns, and an undershirt. I was reaching for the button at the waist of my pants when there was a tentative knock at my door. 

My heart took up the heavy thudding again. //Won't you ever learn?// I sneered at it silently as I crossed to the door. //It's not him. And even if it is, Jim Ellison is not available.// 

I opened it. My eyes widened, my mouth opened, then shut, and my breath snagged in my throat. _Jim_? 

But I'd faced down a classroom of restless students when I'd done some time as a teaching assistant while working on my dissertation. I pulled myself together. 

"You're in the wrong place. Miss Plummer's room is down the next corridor." I turned the sneer on him. "Or should I call her 'Mrs. Ellison'?" 

"She's not Mrs. Ellison, and I'm not looking for Carolyn. I was looking for you." His eyes narrowed, and he reached out to touch me. I slapped his hand away. 

"Why?" He was crowding me, but I stood my ground stubbornly. I had no intention of giving him the satisfaction of seeing me back down before him. 

"We were supposed to have a cup of coffee at the mess hall. We were going to..." 

"What? Take up where we left off? I don't think so. You're going to remarry your ex-wife. I don't fool around with married men." If I repeated that enough, maybe I'd believe it where he was concerned. 

He was staring at my chest, and I was about to snap at him that he could at least have the courtesy of looking me in the eye while we had our first... our only quarrel, when I saw the blank look in his eyes. 

"Jim. _Jim_! Listen to my voice!" I shook and stroked and patted him. "Come back to me!" I was looking for any excuse to touch him one last time. I promised myself it would be the last time. 

He blinked, shuddered, inhaled deeply, and slowly came out of it. "What happened, Chief?" 

"I was hoping you could tell me." 

But he didn't. "What... uh... what were we talking about?" 

"Your remarriage." 

"Aw, baby, she lied! There's nothing between us." 

Suppose he was lying to me, telling me what I wanted to hear so he could get in my pants, and then still have his wife to go home to? 

"Don't call me 'baby'," I snapped. I couldn't let him know what hearing him call me 'baby' did to me. "And don't tell me there's nothing between you. For Pete's sake, I can _smell_ her on you! Unless you've taken to wearing women's perfume?" 

He pulled the material of his flight suit up toward his nose and sniffed, and an angry flush colored his cheeks. "All of a sudden _you're_ the sentinel?" 

"Don't give me that crap! Chanel #5 is pretty strong, wise guy. I don't need an acute olfactory sense to pick up on that! And what do you know about sentinels?" 

"Blair, you have to believe me!" He was tearing the suit off with furious, contained movements. 

According to what law? And damn the man for not answering me. "Back off, Ellison. You're not coming..." 

"Not yet, I'm not." The pants of his flight suit were down around his ankles and he almost fell over. I would have laughed if I hadn't been so distracted by the curve of the firm muscles of his ass as he bent to remove his boots and then finish getting out of his flying gear. 

"No! If I let you in, you're going to...," I swallowed, "...to make love to me?" 

"Yeah." He started to unbutton his shirt. The expanse of skin I could see above the vee neck of his undershirt was hairless. 

"But we were going to talk first." My fingertips tingled with the desire to touch him. 

"You want to talk?" 

No. Who wanted to waste time verbalizing when I could have him ripping off my pants, throwing me down on my bed, and burying his dick so deep in my ass that I'd feel him there for days afterward? But I had to make him think that talking was the only thing I was willing to do. 

"Okay, Chief. We talk. First. Then..." 

"No." I almost panicked. If there was a 'then', I knew I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off him. "I don't ..." 

"You don't trust me?" He looked hurt, and then he looked determined. He started walking toward me. 

"Your clothes, Jim! You can't leave them in the hall!" I didn't care what he did with his flight suit and his boots, they could have gathered dust there in the corridor until the end of time, for all that their location mattered to me, but I had no intention of telling him that I was the one I didn't trust. I knew my mouth must have a mulish twist to it. I'd learned stubborn from Naomi. 

He grabbed them up, came into my room, and dumped them on the floor. I stiffened when I saw the expression on his face, as if he wanted to make a meal of me. 

Jim gave an innocent smile, spread his hands as if he had nothing to hide, and said, "You can tie me up if that will make you feel better." 

The image of Jim restrained made my dick so hard I had to swallow down a whimper. "Why don't you sit in that chair, Jim?" 

Instead of sitting with his back to the back of the chair, he straddled it; there was nothing to block my view of his lower body, and I found myself mesmerized by the way his pants pulled snug over his dick. He was as hard as I was. 

"Hands behind your back, tough guy." Without a single protest, he obeyed me. I was so aroused I was panting, and my cheeks felt hot with desire. I remembered the tie that confined my hair was in my pocket, and I pulled it out and secured his wrists together. 

Jim was at my mercy, and I couldn't resist leaning against him, letting him feel me lean against him. And I heard myself whispering hoarsely, "I was going to say, it's not that I didn't trust you, but that I didn't trust me. Y'know, it wouldn't have mattered. I'd have gone to bed with you anyway, Jim. And if you weren't tied up, I never would have told you that!" 

He groaned and his hips jerked, and I shivered. _I_ did that to him! 

"There really isn't anything going on with the two of you, Jim?" //Tell me 'no', even if it's a lie!// 

"I swear to you, babe. On what I feel for you." 

What? "What do you feel for me, Jim? Passion? Lust?" 

"That, and more." 

"What 'more'?" 

"How about affection?" 

Was he saying we had something more than physical attraction going for us? I pressed my lips to his and was stunned when he opened his mouth under mine. 

I drew back. Jim was flushed, his cheekbones splashed with color, his eyes glittering like the sky reflected by Arctic ice. 

I murmured his name, brought our mouths together, and began exploring the warm, wet interior of his mouth in earnest. Kissing was something I'd learned to do to make sure my partner drowned in a flood of feeling and surrendered to me, but this time _I_ was the one who was drowning. I increased the pressure until I had to break the kiss if I wanted to breathe. 

Breathing was so overrated. 

"This is the first time we've kissed, you know. I like it." I didn't recognize my own voice. 

"Untie me, Chief." 

"Not yet." I could see his erection straining against his fly, and I needed to taste him. I knelt before him, the scent of male arousal driving me to the brink of orgasm. Never before had I been so out of control. 

The sensation of his fingers in my hair was one of the most erotic things I had ever felt. He whispered something; I couldn't understand the words, but it wasn't important because he was bringing my face up to his, he was kissing me, he was... 

"Jim! You're free!" I moved so quickly I tipped over backwards, and I had no doubt I resembled nothing so much as a befuddled owl as I stared up at him. "How'd you get free?" 

"I guess you weren't a Boy Scout, Chief." He looked smugly proud of himself. "You really don't have much of a way with knots." 

I watched him with wary eyes. He rose from the chair with the grace of a panther and began to stalk me. I scooted backwards until I found my back against the wall. 

His hands manacled my wrists, he hauled me to my feet, and we were suddenly doing a replay of the scene in his quarters earlier this evening. My arms were above my head, and he was plastered against me from chest to groin. 

"So you would have gone to bed with me anyway, Chief?" 

I nodded, unable to get a word past my lips. 

"I'm glad to hear that, Blair." He bent and got his shoulder into my gut, I was hoisted up into a fireman's lift, and the next thing I knew, I was sailing through the air to land sprawled out on my bed. The mattress gave a little, and then gave more as he came down on top of me, driving me deeper into it. His legs were between mine, and he spread them, spreading mine, and settled into the vee of my thighs. "I'm really glad to hear that." 

* * *

Carolyn's POV 

Wendy, my baby sister, was married by the time she was nineteen. Of course, she was divorced within the year, but she had proved to our mother that she could land a man. 

"Why can't you be more like your sister, dear?" 

And so I married James Joseph Ellison. There were a number of very valid reasons for marrying him. Love was not one of them. 

He was a decorated war hero. He was respected by his superior officers and was on the fast track to becoming a high-ranking officer himself. He was good-looking. 

But the main reason I married the man was because I was twenty-eight years old and had never been married. 

Our honeymoon was a disaster. Sex was messy and painful, and I cried through the whole thing, because of course I was a virgin. Good girls didn't do anything like that before they were married, even if they were twenty-eight years old. 

I began to look for excuses so he wouldn't touch me. 

"I have a headache, Jimmy." Even if I didn't. 

"I'm...er... indisposed." One didn't tell a man one had one's period. 

"I just had my hair done!" 

"I just manicured my nails, and they're still wet." 

"I have a cold in my nose." 

"I'm so tired!" 

And gradually he stopped asking. I was so relieved when he agreed to twin beds that I didn't question his willingness. After all, that was how Mother and Daddy lived. 

My life with Jimmy was comfortable. He let me do as I pleased and never asked how I spent my days. I thought it was because he trusted me, and I never gave him reason not to. Until I met Sam. 

Sam and I had six wonderful months together, and of course Jimmy had no idea; he was too busy flying those wretched planes of his. 

And then Sam was offered a position in Washington, DC. 

"I'll talk Jimmy into putting in for a transfer, darling! He can fly those generals and admirals around. Maybe he'll even become an aide to one of them!" 

"I wish you'd leave him, Caro. You know you don't love him." 

"I can't! Think of what my parents would say, how my friends would react!" I shuddered at the thought. 

"So you'd rather hurt me." 

"Sam! No!" 

"I'm sorry, Carolyn. I love you very much, but you're going to have to choose between the life you want to live, and the one society expects of you. I'll wait for you for six months, but if you haven't made a decision by then..." 

"Sam, please!" 

"Good-bye, Cara mia." She kissed me and walked out without once looking back. 

* * *

//It's too late.// The words repeated themselves over and over and over in my mind until I wanted to scream and tear my hair. 

I'd finally gotten the divorce from my husband, but more than a year later, and I knew Sam would have wasted no time in finding someone who appreciated her. I had let it go too long. 

The alimony I was collecting from Jimmy wasn't enough for me to survive on. I couldn't face the prospect of returning to my parents' home, especially since I knew Daddy would never let me hear the end of it about my failed marriage. I wasn't Wendy, after all. 

I found out, in a very roundabout way, that a secretarial position was opening up in a research station in the Arctic. The pay was good, especially for a woman, and room and board were included. I applied. No one was more surprised than I when I actually got the job. 

"You really want to do this, Carolyn?" 

Of course I didn't! It was the _North Pole_! "Yes, Daddy." 

"Very well. I think it's foolish, but ..." 

"Will you give me a job at your firm?" 

"Good god, _no_ , girl!" 

I hadn't thought so. "Good-bye, Dad." 

* * *

The last leg of the trip, from Anchorage to that dust speck on the map that was the research station, was excruciatingly boring. The lone passenger who was on the plane when I maneuvered up that impossible ladder in my slim skirt and high heels was already sound asleep. 

He looked cute, in a bohemian kind of way. His hair was much too long to be acceptable, and I thought I saw an _earring_ in his ear, but he had the longest, most luxurious eyelashes I had ever seen on a man, and lush lips that were slightly parted. 

If I looked at him through slitted eyes, I could almost pretend he was a woman. A rather muscular woman with a five o'clock shadow. I sighed. 

* * *

I hated the Arctic. It was cold and white and... _cold_. 

I talked too much, as I always did when I was nervous. 

It wasn't my fault I'd reacted the way I had when I was introduced to Simon Banks. I had never seen such a big colored man before. 

They all hated me, I just knew it, and I cried myself to sleep that night, wishing I'd had the nerve to go with Sam when she'd asked me. 

The next morning I was determined to behave with decorum, as befitted a Plummer, and things did seem to be going better. 

There was a knock on my door, and when I opened it, it was to find Mrs. Chapman standing there. Draped over her arm was a pair of trousers. 

"I found some slacks for you, Carolyn. They belonged to Mrs. Olson. She's away right now, visiting her son who just became a daddy for the first time, but she won't mind." 

"Oh, but won't she need them when she gets back?" Mother always... _advised_ us not to wear borrowed clothing. She said it was common. 

"You're so sweet, but they don't fit her any longer." 

"Oh, well... thank you. And of course I'll thank Mrs. Olson when she returns." 

"You're welcome, dear. Breakfast is ready. Don't take too long getting dressed." 

She walked briskly down the corridor, and I shut the door. I didn't like being called 'dear'. I never had. 

I held the slacks up by the waist, then laid them across my bed and went to find an appropriate top. 

The slacks were baggy. If it wasn't for the belt threaded through the loops, they would be around my ankles. And they no longer fit Mrs. Olson? How much did the woman weigh? 

But my lower extremities were warm. Maybe I really could do this, could support myself. 

I walked to the mess hall and had breakfast, and afterwards, Mrs. Chapman escorted me to the tiny room that would serve as my office. She showed me where all the supplies were kept. 

The inbox next to the Underwood typewriter only had one set of papers clipped together. 

"Nikki finished as much as she could so you wouldn't start out swamped." 

"Nikki?" 

"Alberta Nicholson." 

"Oh. Yes, I see." Why hadn't she invited me to call her by her nickname? Certainly everyone else seemed to. She was leaving, I rationalized. We wouldn't have time to know one another. "Well, that was very nice of her." 

Dr. Carrington walked in. "Miss Plummer, good morning. I need these results typed up in triplicate, please. Mrs. Chapman, I'd like a word with you, if you don't mind?" 

Mrs. Chapman smiled encouragingly, and they left me to my job. 

I explored the file cabinets and discovered personnel records, which included payroll information, and accounting for everything ordered for this station, from food to microscope slides, agents and reagents for experiments, and fuel oil to heat the station. Alberta Nicholson was more than a simple secretary. Rather than worry about how I could ever do half the tasks she handled, I turned to face the black beast on my desk. 

I really wasn't interested in the people who worked here. 

I found the carbon paper and took out two sheets. I'd put them between the stock paper and get started. 

By the time I had the first set of papers in the carriage of the typewriter, my hands were covered with the black stuff, and it was smeared over the seat of my slacks. 

I had to go back to my room to change. I had to go back to my room to change three times. 

This was not turning out to be one of my better days. 

And after dinner, it went from bad to worse. 

"Jimmy!" My ex-husband had turned up like a bad penny. He could have had the grace to at least look intrigued to find me there. 

After exchanging words with him, I left the mess hall with a dignified gait and retired to my room, thinking furiously. I wanted to go home. I hated being cold, and I hated being thought of as a failure because I was a divorcee. 

This whole situation in which I found myself was James Ellison's fault. He was going to be my ticket back to the life I always should have had. 

In my room I found exactly what I wanted to wear, and I laid the outfit on my bed. I remembered that Jimmy liked soft textures, so I chose a soft suede skirt that came to mid-calf and an angora sweater. Spike-heeled shoes that fastened around my ankles would complete the outfit. I liked those shoes. They emphasized the curve of my calves and showed off how slender my ankles were. 

Sam had loved how I looked in them. She'd curled her hand around my calf, brought it over my knee and to my thigh, then run her thumbnail lazily over the crotch of my panties, which had quickly grown damp... 

My nipples peaked to pebble hardness. I wanted to touch myself, lose myself in thoughts of what Sam used to do to me. 

Instead, I spritzed myself with my favorite French perfume, fixed the pale pink garter belt around my waist, and sat down to roll up my nylons. I made sure the seams in back were straight, and then fastened the tops with the garters. 

Deliberately I left off the panties and brassiere that formed a matching set with the garter belt. I stepped into the skirt and pulled up the zipper on my left side, drew the sweater on over my head, and smoothed the material over my breasts. 

I thought fleetingly of Sam again, but I couldn't have her, she wouldn't have waited, and I put her out of my mind. 

I fluffed my hair, put on a fresh coat of lipstick, and went to track down my soon-to-be husband. 

* * *

The visit with Jimmy in the storeroom didn't work out as well as I'd hoped. I'd been certain that once he'd slid his hand under my skirt and realized I was nude under it, things would progress to a happy conclusion, but I hadn't even been able to get him to embrace me. He'd nattered on about being faithful. 

Who did he think he was, that stupid elephant? 

And then that lieutenant of his interrupted us, and I'd had to leave. But I could feel their eyes on my backside, and I put a little extra wiggle in my walk. 

Once outside the door, I rubbed my arms briskly and blew on my hands. It had been so cold in that storeroom! 

All right, time to put Plan B into action. I'd start telling everyone that we had made up our differences. 

I'd need some visual substantiation for that, though. Everyone had seen the way we'd sniped at each other. I hurried to the ladies' room and used some toilet tissue to remove most of my lipstick, then carefully smudged my mouth so it would appear I had been kissed to within an inch of my life. 

Jimmy was an officer, and supposedly a gentleman. He would never call a lady a liar, not in public, but I was sure he'd want to confront me about the little rumor I was about to start. 

And I had no doubt that once I had him in my room, I'd be able to convince him it was in his own best interest to remarry me. 

Satisfied with my appearance, I went to the rec room. It was show time. 

* * *

I was in my room, pacing and glancing impatiently at my wristwatch. 

Jimmy's watch had been over for at least forty-five minutes. That should have given him plenty of time to hear the little rumor I'd started. 

Where was he? And if this wasn't just like a man, and him in particular! 

I wouldn't have been surprised if he was simply trying to drive me out of my mind, so _I_ decided to track him down. 

I went to the quarters I had learned he and his men had been given, pleased that no one was around. One good thing that could be said for these people, at least they went to bed at a decent hour. 

* * *

For some reason, I found myself tip-toeing to the door. I could recall too many times when my husband had heard things I hadn't wanted him to hear. 

I pressed my ear to the door and listened, then flinched. The sound from within was a chorus of snores that were guaranteed to rattle windows. I opened the door and peeked in, but it was too dark to see anything. 

_But_! Jimmy never snored. Therefore, Jimmy wasn't in there. 

Satisfied with my reasoning, I concluded that he had to be still awake. After all, he was a conscientious man, where duty was concerned, at any rate. I wouldn't have been at all surprised if he was checking things in the storeroom. 

I smiled in satisfaction and hurried on my way. I'd just go back there and surprise him. 

As I rounded the corner, I saw Danny Barnes racing down the corridor. I had read some things in his file about him having a number of problems adjusting to the endless days of the Arctic summer, and word was that he'd vomited all over his own boots just this afternoon on the ice. 

He probably was unable to deal with the cold in that room and needed to go to the bathroom. 

Well, that was perfect. It would give me the opportunity to talk to Jimmy. 

I opened the door. "Jimmy? Baby?" I used that voice I knew he loved. Sam had hated it, but... but Sam had left me. "Your snooky-wookums is cold and needs your big strong arms to warm her! Jimmy?" I heard something behind me. "Are you playing hide-and-go-seek with me?" 

I pasted a smile on my face and started to turn. Something slammed into the side of my head, sending me crashing into some crates, stars exploded, and then I knew nothing else. 

* * *

Blair's POV 

Something was digging into my back. I mumbled a protest and reached beneath me to pull out the lid of the Vaseline jar. 

Jim turned his head on the pillow beside me and grinned. "Good thing you had some lubricant, Chief, although I don't think I want to ask why the jar was nearly empty." 

He didn't see my blush, which was fortunate. I really didn't want to explain about needing to stimulate my prostate every so often. 

"Lucky for you it was. I'd never be able to explain to Mrs. Chapman why there was Vaseline all over my blankets." 

"You okay, Chief? Did I use enough?" He angled himself over me and stared down at me. His fingers stroked over a spot on my neck, and I tipped my head back so he'd keep doing it, and then his mouth was there, suckling the patch of skin. 

I made this sound that was a cross between desperate and demanding, and tipped my head even further back, hoping he'd suck harder. 

"Did I?" 

It took a second for me to recall he'd been asking if he'd used enough lubricant. "You used plenty." 

"Why are you shifting as if you're sore?" 

"How did you know..." I could see from his expression that he wasn't going to tell me. I was feeling good in spite of the ache deep inside me, or maybe because of it. I'd never had a lover who was so skilled in the use of his dick. Or one who warmed me so well. Even though the blankets were mostly on the floor, I was cozy in his arms. I burrowed against him. "Okay, fine, have it your own way." 

His hand fondled the curve of my ass, tracing the crevice, dipping into my hole which was still slick with the lubricant and his come. 

"I'm okay, Jim. In fact, I'm so okay, I'm up for another round." I wrapped the fingers of his other hand around my dick to show him how 'up' for it I was. They were warm and lightly callused. He rubbed his thumb under the flared head, and I gasped. "How about you?" I nipped his collarbone. 

"Hey!" His hand came down on my ass cheek in a playful spank. 

"Hey!" I rubbed the abused cheek, pretending to be aggrieved. 

"Something wrong, Chief?" he asked innocently. 

I had my fingers curled to launch an attack on his ribs, but in the blink of an eye, he was no longer beside me in bed. "Jim?" 

The man moved like lightning, no exaggeration. He already had his pants on and was yanking his undershirt over his head. "Something is wrong." 

"What is it?" I used the sheet to wipe myself off, uncaring of what anyone might say over its condition, then began dressing, putting on my socks first. The floor was always cold, and I didn't want to be hopping all over, with my dick bouncing up and down, although no doubt it would have amused my lover immensely. "Jim?" 

"I don't know. I... I can't tell, Blair. I just know I have to... Wait a second! What do you think you're doing?" 

"I'm going with you." From force of habit I slipped the lanyard that held the greenhouse key over my head. "If nothing else, it's obvious you need protecting from your ex-wife." 

He tucked his shirt into his pants and zipped the fly. "And you're the man to protect me?" 

"That's right. I'll slap her silly if she even looks like she wants to get close to you." I stepped into the half boots I wore in the station. "I'm all set, Jim. You want to take your flight suit, or leave it here?" 

"I'd better take it." I picked it up and threw it to him. He caught it and went to the door. "How come you aren't questioning me, Chief?" 

"Dunno, Jim. As I told you the other night, I lived among some primitive peoples, and I learned some interesting things." I could see he was becoming more and more anxious. "Never mind all that. Let's get going." 

* * *

"Jim? What's up, Cap?" One of his men, who I recognized as Erickson, the navigator, looked up in surprise as Jim and I came hurrying into the rec room. Seated beside him was the radio operator, Eddie Dykes. 

Jim looked ill-at-ease. "Barnes relieved you without any problems, Ken?" 

"Yeah." He glanced at his wrist watch. "About half an hour ago. Right on time." He began to grin. "Wanna know how your mystery turns out?" 

"I told you..." His head whipped around, and for a moment I would have sworn he was vibrating. 

We heard the door to the mess hall slam open and someone come pounding in. 

"Where's Captain Banks? I have to see him! I have to tell him that Thing is alive! I have to..." 

Jim bolted into the mess hall. We were right behind him. 

It was Barnes, sheet-white and hyperventilating. His irises were like twin marbles surrounded by the whites of his eyes. 

"Captain Ellison!" He rushed at Jim, waving a gun, his words running together in short, jerky, panic-stricken sentences. The gun was too close to my lover for my comfort. Carefully I approached the pair. "That Thing!" His panic named our visitor. "It's alive, alive, I tell you! It came at me, I shot at it, but the bullets didn't stop it! It's alive!" 

They were close to a table, and someone had left a glass of water there. 

"You have to do something! It was horrible! Those hands, and those _eyes_! You've got to..." 

I threw the water into his face. Barnes gasped and shuddered and sagged, and I got an arm around him before his legs could give out and he collapsed. 

"Easy, Danny. Easy." I helped him into a chair. 

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." 

Simon came running in. "What's going on? I heard shots?" 

Behind him were the Chapmans, Dr. Carrington, and a few of the other scientists. Except for Dr. Carrington, they were all dressed in their nightclothes. 

"Danny, can you tell us what happened more calmly now?" 

"Yes, I'm sorry." He wiped the drops of water off his face. "I relieved Lieutenant Erickson at 1, and after he left, I checked the storeroom. Everything seemed okay, so I poured myself a cup of coffee and started reading that mystery that was on the desk. After a while I started getting this awful feeling, like... like ... I dunno, like someone was staring at me? The hairs on the back of my neck felt like they were standing at attention, and I... I thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye, a shadow on the wall in front of me, I don't know. When I looked over my shoulder, there it was! Those weird eyes and those hands and... " 

"Easy, Danny." Simon squeezed his shoulder. "You're safe here." 

"I know. I'm sorry." He gulped and rubbed his fist over his lips. "It started coming at me. I pulled out my gun and shot at it. I shot six times, and I know I hit it, I could hear the bullets as they hit, this soggy... " He had to swallow a couple of times before he could go on. "It made this high-pitched mewling sound and kept coming at me." He shuddered and gulped again. "I'm sorry. I ran. I... I ran." 

"It's all right, Danny." Mrs. Chapman knelt beside him and drew him into a comforting embrace, while her husband went to brew a pot of coffee. 

"Ken, do you have your gun? Eddie?" 

"In our quarters, Jim." 

"Go get them. Better wake up Bob and Joel. Meet me in the corridor near the storeroom." 

They left on the run. 

"I'll break out the station's weapons, Jim." I couldn't remember ever seeing Simon look so grim. 

"Thanks, Simon. We just may need them." 

"I'm going with you." 

"Chief, it isn't safe." 

"Captain Ellison, I'm going also." 

"Dr. Chapman..." 

"Hugo, be careful." 

"Always, my dear." He hugged his wife. 

Megan Connor ran in, belting a red silk kimono over her pajamas. Japanese dragons were embroidered over it in black and gold threads. "What's all the ruckus about? I thought I heard gunshots!" 

"That Thing in the ice got out somehow and attacked Barnes. We're going to check out the storeroom. _You_ stay here. You're _not_ invited along!" 

"Because I'm a woman? And I suppose I was just kibitzing at Iwo Jima and Bougainville." 

"I'm not giving you a gun." 

"Don't need one." There was a smug curl to her mouth, and she pulled a revolver from the pocket of her kimono. 

"Damn." 

"What are you going to do?" Dr. Carrington demanded. "You can't harm it! If it's survived, we'll need to see to its injuries, try to communicate with it!" His voice had grown strident. "You can't harm it!" 

"I have no intention of harming it, Dr. Carrington. As long as it doesn't try to harm me or my men." Jim headed out the door, followed by me, Simon, Connor, Dr. Chapman, and Dr. Carrington, who continued to harangue my lover. Jim ignored him, coming to a halt to glare at us. "What is this, Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade? This is strictly a military operation!" 

"I'm going," I told him flatly. "And you can't stop me. I'm not under you." As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew I was in trouble. "I mean..." 

"Not now, you're not, Sandburg," Jim growled at me in a low voice I hoped no one else would hear. "But when I get you alone..." He let the sensual threat hang. 

"Please, Jim. Don't make me wait behind." 

"You might as well let him go, Ellison. I'm coming along as well." Simon was carefully inserting bullets into Barnes' gun. 

"And so am I," Connor stated. 

"Suit yourselves. Just remember to duck if the lead starts flying." 

We had arrived at the junction of the corridor leading to storeroom #4. Joel Taggart was waiting there with Jim's other three men. They all had their weapons out, thumbs on the hammers, ready to start firing if the necessity arose. 

"All right." Jim had his hand on the doorknob. He took a deep breath and threw open the door. 

The light was out. Wind and snow came whistling though the broken windows. 

Jim took a couple of strides into the room and went down face first, tripping over something. At the same time there was a rush of air through the space where he had stood. 

"What the...?" 

The light from the corridor gave some illumination, and we could make out the shape standing above him, the stance aggressive. Jim rolled onto a hip, his gun braced in both hands, and opened fire. Six other guns also fired, the simultaneous sound like rolling thunder, deafening in the confined space of the room. 

Suddenly the outer door was flung back, and I could see a tall, monstrous shadow disappear through it into the storm. 

"Somebody, _shut that door_!" 

Erickson, Dykes and MacAuliff struggled against the wind, finally succeeding in getting the door closed. 

"Jim, what happened? What did you trip over?" 

"Get some light in here!" 

I fumbled against the wall and found the light switch. 

"It's Mrs. Ellison... " Lieutenant Erickson smiled weakly as Jim glared at him. "...er... Miss Plummer." 

Jim went down beside her and searched for the pulse in her throat. "She's alive." 

He brushed her hair back off her face. Blood was streaming from a wound on her temple. He searched for something to staunch the flow, and I dug a handkerchief out of my pocket. 

"Thanks, Chief. Head wounds always bleed like a bastard." 

"It looks like she hit her head on the edge of that crate, Captain Ellison." Dr. Chapman was on one knee, carefully probing for broken bones and other injuries. "She was lucky." 

"What makes you say that, Dr. Chapman?" Connor, ever the reporter. 

"If she had been struck with the same force of blow that... whatever that was swung at the good captain, I'm afraid it would have taken off her head! As it is, she's going to need stitches. I think she's also going to have one very bad headache." He raised an eyelid. "She's concussed, but she is alive. I'll bring her to my wife. Esther will take care of her." 

Mrs. Chapman was a licensed doctor, but because two Dr. Chapmans would have been too confusing, Dr. Carrington decreed she should be referred to by the title 'Mrs.', and she graciously permitted it. 

"I'll give Hugo a hand, if that's all right with you, Jim?" 

"Yeah, Simon. Thanks." 

The two men carefully maneuvered the comatose woman out of the storeroom. 

"Look!" Connor's voice was high and tense. 

We rushed to the windows, trying to see through the dark and the wind-driven snow. It was difficult, but with the help of a fitful moon, I could just about make out what was happening. 

Our visitor had stumbled into the spot where the sled dogs had been bedded down for the night. They were ill-tempered, even more so for having been awakened. We could hear the deep-throated, savage howls. They threw themselves on the creature en masse. 

"He's dead meat!" 

He went down beneath eight of the dogs. 

"Holy smokes! Would you look at that?" 

Somehow, the Man from Mars had regained his footing. He flung one of the dogs at its mates, managed to stagger beyond the reach of the chains that tethered the dogs, fall, and then get to his feet again and vanish into the night. 

"That puts paid to him. He'll never last in that cold!" 

"Yeah? He survived pretty good in a block of ice for more than twenty-four hours!" 

"We've lost him!" Dr. Carrington bemoaned. "We've truly lost him. All that knowledge, that wisdom, gone!" 

"How the hell did this happen?" Jim wasn't happy. "That Thing was frozen solid in the ice!" 

"This did it, Cap." Joel picked up a blanket. An electrical cord ran from it to an outlet. "It's still warm. My fault, Jim. I didn't even know it was plugged in." 

"No." Connor's lips were etched in white. " _My_ fault. I wanted Jo... Taggart to be comfortable. I didn't tell him I'd plugged it in; I didn't think it would matter. Oh, jesus, I'm sorry." 

"Nice to know even the infallible Megan Connor can screw up." 

"You try being a woman in a man's field, Taggart," she snapped at him. It took a visible effort for her to bite back whatever else she would have said. "I'm going to get my camera." 

"It's a little late for that, don't you think?" 

"Drop dead, Taggart. I'll photograph the block of ice, and at least there will be a record of its shape." She stalked out of the storeroom. Taggart watched her go. 

"How come none of us realized it was an electric blanket?" Ken Erickson looked more than a little disturbed. He kept glancing at the crew chief. I remembered Barnes had volunteered to take Bob MacAuliff's watch. If he hadn't, MacAuliff would have been the one to face down that Thing. 

"The gloves," Jim muttered. He stood with a hand on his hip, running a restless hand over his hair. "It's got to be the gloves. I had them from Joel and was wearing them when I put the blanket around Carolyn. You were wearing them when you straightened it on the ice, after... " 

I frowned at him. What was he doing putting a blanket around that woman? 

"And I gave them to Barnes. It was so friggin' cold in here!" 

Jim ran a hand over his hair again and looked at each of his men. "I'm going out there to see if I can find anything. I won't order you to come with me, but I'm asking for volunteers." 

"Count me in, Jim." "Me too." "And me." "Ditto." 

"Jim, I can help calm the dogs." 

He hesitated a moment, then said, "Okay, Chief. Dr. Carrington, if we're able to find anything, you can have it to dissect." 

"Thank you, Captain." He had himself under control once more. 

"All right, people. It's cold out there. Get your outer gear. And somebody rustle up some flashlights. Now, let's move like we've got a purpose!" 

* * *

Between the wind, the snow, and the cold, it took us what felt like forever to make our way to where the huskies had been bedded down. 

The dogs stood stiff-legged, facing the spaces beyond the camp, their hackles raised, ears flat, and lips wrinkled, baring their teeth in now-silent fury. 

I approached them with caution, using the crooning tones I knew would calm them. The Eskimo angatkuq had told me, when he'd first seen me working with the huskies, that my inner spirit was a wolf, and the half-wild animals, with the wolf strain in them separated by not more than a generation, responded to me because of that. 

They allowed me to get close enough, and I stroked and petted them until their ears rose and their stance, while not completely relaxed, became less aggressive. 

"Where is it?" "Can you find any tracks?" "I can't see a goddammed thing!" "Where in friggin' hell did it go?" 

Jim turned, his shoulders heaving. I left the dogs to fend for themselves and slipped and skidded over the icy snow to his side. 

"What's wrong?" I kept my voice low. His men were casting around, looking for any signs of our visitor from Mars, and were unaware that something was bothering him. 

"That smell, Chief! I ... It's too..." 

I didn't know what he was talking about, I couldn't smell anything, but I could see he was in distress. I caught the fingers of my left glove between my teeth and yanked it off, then, skin to skin, cupped his cheek and forced him to meet my eyes. The temperature was subzero, and almost immediately my bare fingers began to freeze, but I blocked out the feeling. 

"Jim, picture a dial. Can you do that? Good. Now, this smell is at the top of the dial. I want you to turn the dial down." 

The shudders that ran through him eased as he concentrated, and after a couple of minutes stopped completely. He took a shallow breath, either to avoid another lungful of the smell that had affected him so strongly, or to avoid the damage the freezing air could do to his lungs. 

"Thanks, Chief. That helped a lot. Thank you." His gloved hand covered my bare one, warming it. 

"Jim! There's something over here! _Jim_!" Joel called, pitching his voice to be heard above the wind. He shone his flashlight over a large, dark splotch on the snow, then squatted down to study it. Jim joined him. "What do you make of it, Cap?" 

"It's blood. Dog's blood." 

"How can you tell? It might be Plug Ugly's." 

"See for yourself." Jim raised his flashlight, and the circle of light revealed the bodies of two of the dogs. 

Ikuma, the lead bitch, approached her dead comrades. The coats were stiffening as the blood that drenched them froze in the Arctic night. White bone gleamed in the artificial light, while ribbons of intestines had spilled out onto the snow. 

I gasped, sucking in the air and then choking as my lungs protested the cold, cold invasion. The odor of perforated bowel had been what Jim had smelled, before any of us picked up on it. 

"Jesus, they look like they've gone through a shredder!" Erickson sounded shaky. 

Ikuma nosed the bodies, then threw her head back and began an ululation of mourning. The other dogs joined in the eerie, spine-chilling howls. 

"Hey! I found something!" The tense cry had us turning to where Dykes, the radio man, was standing and pointing, his mouth twisted in revulsion. 

Not the Man from Mars, but... Under one of the eviscerated bodies was something long and pale. It was an arm. Tatters of material fluttered in the dying wind. I swallowed convulsively. 

In a moment of absolute absurdity, I wondered if it was the same one that had seemed to be reaching for me. 

Jim hesitated a moment, then used great care in picking it up. "All right, let's get this inside. We're going to need more men, more flashlights, and some damn big shotguns. And we're going to find that damned Thing!" 

* * *

My lover was out there in the night and the storm with his men and Simon's men, and our visitor from space. 

I was in the laboratory, surrounded by scientists who were arguing over the arm with its ten-fingered hand. I picked up a pair of surgical scissors, and with extreme care, I cut through the material that covered the arm. The... skin... for want of a better word, was an odd texture that I couldn't quite place. 

I reached for a scalpel, but Dr. Carrington was there before me. 

"Dr. Auerbach, if you'll do the honors, please?" Dr. Carrington extended the scalpel to him. 

I opened my mouth to object to our resident pathologist taking over the dissection of the arm, then closed it. Dr. Carrington was the titular head of this station, after all. And all I had to go on was a gut feeling about that arm. 

"Thank you, Doctor." Dr. Auerbach cut into the skin of the forearm and inserted a thermometer. "Let's just see if it will register anything." 

Something suddenly drew Dr. Carrington's attention. He fingered the blood-smeared tissue at the severed end of the arm. 

"Dr. Stern, would you mind taking a look at this?" 

The senior botanist studied it for a moment. "This was torn off at the shoulder!" 

"Yes. As strong as the dogs are, it would take something larger and much more powerful than a husky to rip off a man's arm, much less this creature's." 

"And the bone... Blair, what do you make of this?" 

"What does _Blair_ make of it? What about _me_?" Professor Laurenz snarled. "I've got seniority over him!" 

"Oh, this is very interesting," Connor whispered in my ear. She had taken the time to change out of her pajamas and was again in her usual attire of pants, boots, and a flannel shirt. 

"What? You thought that just because a man had a string of letters after his name he couldn't be a..." I bit back the words. I _was_ a junior member of this station, and it wouldn't do for me to call a man whose research I had once cited a 'petty prick'. 

"Of course I'm always interested in what you have to say, Andrew," Dr. Carrington asserted. "You know I value your judgment." 

Professor Laurenz preened. "Thank you, Arthur." 

Dr. Auerbach removed the thermometer, gazed at it thoughtfully, then reinserted it. 

"Now, as _I_ see it..." Laurenz was staring at me, his expression smug, as he reached for the arm. He yanked his hand back. "Ouch!" 

"Andrew! Your hand is bleeding!" 

"How...? I don't understand!" He pulled out a handkerchief and wrapped it around his palm. 

"Most interesting!" Dr. Stern examined the long, thin, curved fingers, exercising extreme care not to touch them. "These appear to be some sort of chitinous material." 

"Chitin- what?" 

"Chitinous, Connor. Like the exoskeleton of a beetle." 

Her toe was tapping out an impatient tattoo. "Words of one syllable, Sandy." 

I smiled, liking the nickname she'd given me. "A rose thorn?" 

"Dr. Stern is right. That is interesting." 

And those fingers had cut through the sled dogs' hide and muscle like a warm knife through butter. 

"Would you mind if I took some tissue samples to examine under a microscope, Dr. Carrington?" 

"Yes, you may as well. I'd like to learn why the dogs were able to tear this being's arm off at the shoulder." 

I put on my glasses, prepared the slide, and adjusted the microscope to get the best viewing. I growled under my breath, removed my glasses and rubbed at them with a shirt tail, then put them back on, tucked in my shirt tail, and looked into the microscope again. I let out a low whistle. 

"What is it, Blair?" 

"Porous, unconnected cellular growth." There were startled sounds from the other scientists. I looked from Dr. Stern to Dr. Carrington, to Professor Laurenz. "I'm not surprised the dogs were able to tear this Thing's arm off." 

"Nerve endings? Arterial structures?" Dr. Auerbach demanded. 

"No. And it's no wonder all those bullets Barnes shot at it didn't do any harm. It was like shooting a cabbage!" 

"But what about the blood around the shoulder?" 

"The dogs' blood, I would think. I need to run more tests, but I think we'll find any fluid in this arm will have ..." 

"A sugar base?" 

"Yeah. Plant sap." 

"A _vegetable_?" The reporter appeared stunned. "A vegetable that _thinks_?" 

"That's not as unusual as it might seem, Miss Connor." Professor Laurenz was so busy pontificating that he didn't notice her irritated expression. "Five million years ago, in the Pliocene Epoch, when the Earth was cooling, it could have been a toss-up as to whether the worms, fish, and lizards that dwelled on the Earth and evolved into us emerged victorious, or if plant life took over." 

"Yyyyeah." 

He smirked at her scoffing. "There is evidence of intelligence in the plant kingdom, Miss Connor. The acanthus century plant, for example, uses a sweet syrup to lure bats, mice, other small mammals, into its clutches and feeds on them." 

"It sounds like a Dionaea muscipula." 

"You're familiar with the Venus flytrap?" Connor gave him a tight smile, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Well, actually, there is a vague similarity." 

"There's also the telegraph vine, Professor." 

"You want to fill us in on that, Sandy?" 

"Sure. It's been proven that it communicates with other vines of its species that are as far as twenty to a hundred miles away." 

"Why would one plant want to talk to another?" 

"Well, if there's an insect migration, while the first vine will be fodder for them, the others in the path will have an advanced warning and will actually change their chemical structure so that the insects take one taste, and the dinner bell fails to be rung." 

"You're being facetious, Dr. Sandburg." 

"Possibly, Professor, but it's a fact, none the less. There's also that plant that's turned up in Europe. I've been in communication with William Masen, the triffid wrangler from Great Britain." 

"Triffid? Oh, yeah, those three-legged plants that actually go walkabout." 

"Yes, Connor. And that's so strange. I mean, there are more wonders in the world than can be accounted for, but these plants suddenly appeared one day out of a clear blue sky. Bill Masen was actually one of the first people to be stung by a triffid and survive." 

"I've been following the studies about that plant. Perhaps that will be the next phase in evolution." Dr. Carrington was flushed. Only a discovery in science affected him in that manner. "Just think. On the planet where this creature evolved, plantlife became the dominant species. It built a craft, powered by a source we have yet to discover, and traveled millions of miles to Earth. So powerful, so intelligent. Unhampered by the petty jealousies that plague mankind." Dr. Carrington was bent over the hand, carefully working something free of the palm. "Seeds! Painless, emotionless reproduction." He looked enthralled. 

"Wait a second, Dr. Carrington!" Connor challenged. "You're one of the most brilliant minds on the planet; I'm _not_ going to accuse you of being stuffed full of wild blueberry muffins, but it sounds like you're not only describing a super carrot, but a _female_ one at that!" 

"Not necessarily so. You know the male seahorse..." He stopped talking. The silence was disrupted by a clicking sound. 

One by one, we turned to stare at the arm on the table. 

Dr. Carrington's voice was tight. "Where is Miss Plummer? Dammit! Dr. Sandburg, please take this down. At 2:45 A.M., the hand became alive." 

* * *

I was on my way to the mess hall when Jim and his men came back in. 

"You're gonna get frostbite, Bob," Erickson admonished the crew chief. "Go stick your hand in a pan of ice water and rub it." 

"I think you're right, Ken." MacAuliff winked at him. 

I opened my mouth to tell him that might not be such a good idea, but the crew chief was already heading for their quarters. I turned to the man who had made me see fireworks earlier. 

"Jim, any luck finding our guest?" 

"No. Simon's gone out with some of his men, but the wind is kicking up again, and any tracks will most likely be obliterated." 

I knew the security team was taking their turn searching snow banks and drifts. I licked my lips. "Can I talk to you a minute? Alone?" 

"Why, Chief! Is that what they're calling it these days, 'talking'? You sexy devil, you!" His teasing smile suddenly vanished. "Your heart rate is up. What's wrong?" 

"How did you...?" My heart actually felt as if it was trying to rhumba out of my chest. "Never mind. Let me buy you a cup of coffee. The pot Dr. Chapman brewed before should still be warm." If it wasn't, I'd heat it up. I didn't think we'd have time for a new pot. 

"It's about Plug Ugly?" 

"Yeah." 

Jim followed me into the empty mess hall. While I poured a couple of cups of coffee, he pushed the hood of his flight suit back off his head, tossed his gloves onto a table, and unzipped the outer wear. 

"Start talking." 

"That... that Thing didn't run out into the night just to get away from us. It..." He put his hand over mine, then turned it over, and I stared down at the sugar cube in it. "Jim?" 

"That's the fifth one, Chief. At this rate, you'll be taking coffee with your sugar." 

"I don't take sugar." 

"I know, babe. I may not remember much about the other night, but I do remember that." He ran his thumb over my knuckles, then took my cup, went to the kitchen area and poured it down the sink, and brought me a fresh cup. "Here. This should be better. Now talk to me, Blair. What do you mean it didn't run to get away from us?" 

"It was hungry, Jim. It went after those dogs because it wanted food." 

"How do you figure that?" 

"The arm we brought in had canine blood on it. At 2:45 it started moving." 

"WHAT? That isn't possible!" 

"You don't think so? Men from Mars aren't supposed to be possible either. Dr. Auerbach had a thermometer in the arm. He said there was a twenty degree rise in the temperature. He thinks that rise made it able to ingest the blood." I fiddled with my cup, avoiding his eyes. "I... I went back out to let the rest of the dogs loose. At least they'll have some kind of a chance if they're not chained like sitting ducks. Jim, one of the dogs was already gone; its collar was sliced through." 

He looked as sick as I felt. "That means he's gonna come back, looking for another food source." 

"Yeah. And I've got even more interesting news. It's a plant." 

"A plant? Wait a second! That's why the bullets Barnes fired at it didn't do any harm!" 

I was gratified that he picked up on that aspect of it so quickly. "And that's why the dogs were able to rip its arm off. You're gonna need axes, hatchets, cleavers, anything that'll slice and dice." 

"I'll have to find Simon and make sure he's aware of this new turn of events." 

"He knows, Jim. I told him before he and the guys went outside. I didn't want any of you coming face to face with that Thing and finding _then_ that your gun isn't worth diddly." I dropped my voice, knowing Jim would still able to hear my next remark. "I'd go after the damned Thing bare-handed if it hurt you!" 

"Chief!" He threaded his fingers through my hair, but there wasn't time even for a kiss. "We'd better check the station and see if it's already returned. Send someone to get Simon and his men back in here. I'll get my men. We'll start the search in the rooms off the lower corridors. If it is here, maybe we can corner it in the upper level. We'll meet in the main corridor in ten minutes." 

* * *

Jim and his men were waiting, edgy, by the time I got back. My lover opened his mouth, but I spoke before he could say anything. 

"Personal quarters are secured, Jim. So is sick bay. You ex-wife is still unconscious, but Mrs. Chapman isn't too concerned right now. And the radio room checks out too. Tex said he's going to stay put. He's got a fire extinguisher he thinks will be useful." 

"Good. Has he been able to get anything out to Cascade?" He rubbed the back of his neck impatiently when I shook my head. "Okay, Eddie, as soon as we've checked out the greenhouse, I want you to go see what you can do to help Tex. General Fogarty is probably ready to string me up by the short hairs for not keeping in touch." 

"To hear is to obey." Dykes grinned at him. "I'll do my best, Cap." 

"All right," Jim continued. "The laboratories, mess hall, and rec room are all clear as well." 

"We nearly thought we found the son-of-a-bitch," Taggart fumed, his frustration evident. "That Geiger counter Bob's toting picked up some radioactivity down that corridor." He pointed to the left. 

"The mineralogy lab is down that corridor." I frowned. "We have uranium ore samples in there." 

"Yeah." MacAuliff's grin was sour. "Dr. Carrington took great pleasure in telling us we were just picking up on your radioactive isotopes." 

Arthur Carrington wasn't the most gracious of men; he was too wrapped up in his work, and didn't suffer fools lightly, but normally he was more civil than that. I wondered if he'd had any sleep since the saucer's arrival had set off the sound detectors. 

"He was right; the lab was empty." Jim shrugged off the scientist's rudeness. "The only room we have left to search is the greenhouse. Carrington also told us you've got the only key, Chief." 

"The greenhouse has been my baby right from the start. It broke my heart when I had to put locks on the interior and exterior doors, but Dr. Carrington pulled a real Captain Queeg about the Eskimos taking the strawberries." I reached for the lanyard around my neck and pulled the key out. 

"Captain Queeg?" 

"You know, The Caine Mutiny?" I'd enjoyed the character interaction in Herman Wouk's novel. Someone had gotten a copy from home for Christmas, and we'd all taken turns reading it. It wouldn't have surprised me if that book saw him nominated for a Pulitzer. 

"I'm familiar with the book, but..." 

"What? You thought I only read scientific journals?" 

"Uh... sorry, Chief." My lover had the grace to look sheepish. 

My lover. I turned away quickly and hurried to the greenhouse. 

He was my lover. As I inserted the key in the lock, I was thankful that my pants were cut loosely enough to conceal my sudden arousal. I glanced over my shoulder to find Jim watching me with hot desire in his eyes, and I nearly broke the key in the lock. 

"One second, Captain Ellison!" Dr. Carrington hurried toward us, three other scientists in tow. "We insist on being part of this search." 

"I never said you couldn't join us, Doctor." Jim's eyes had turned chill. "Just stay out of the way until we're sure it's safe." He hefted his ax and took up a position that would allow him a clear view of the interior of the greenhouse once the door was opened. "Back away, Blair." 

I backed away. 

"Hold on!" Connor came running up with her Browning. "I want a picture!" 

"I told the others, I'll tell you. Stay out of the way." Jim waited until he got her reluctant agreement, then nodded to Taggart. The black man rubbed his palms nervously against his thighs, then yanked back the door to reveal... an empty greenhouse. 

There was a concerted release of held breaths, and Jim entered. I was about to follow him when Taggart shouldered past me. 

"Hey!" I tried again. 

"'Pardon me, Dr. Sandburg." The crew chief stepped around me and went into the hot, humid atmosphere of the greenhouse. 

"'Scuse me, Doctor." Erickson was right behind him, and Dykes, Dr. Carrington, Dr. Voorhees, Dr. Stern, and Professor Laurenz. Connor grinned at me and sauntered past. 

"Well, hell!" I was finally able to make my way into the greenhouse. 

Tables were set up against each wall and in two rows in the center of the room. A variety of vegetables were in trays on the tables, as well as the strawberries. In the corners were a number of dwarf fruit trees that I was using in a 'Frankenstein' experiment; the premise was to see if I could produce edible apples and pears using the same tree as the host. I'd had no luck when I'd tried it with peaches and cherries, and the oranges and lemons were too similar to be considered an out-and-out success. 

I was also experimenting with different types of fertilizers to see how I could enrich the limited amount of soil that was available in the research station. Bottles of liquid fertilizer lined the shelves that Dr. Chapman had helped me build, and beneath them were the sacks of potting soil. 

Jim and his men were scouring the aisles, looking under the tables. Out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw plant sap smeared on a storage bin, and I was about to investigate, when Connor let out an enraptured, "Ahhh!" She swooped down on the bed of strawberries, popped one into her mouth, and closed her eyes in patent bliss. "Oh, Sandy, no wonder your Eskimos love these little beauts!" 

"I am the very model of a modern major... um... botanist, Connor." I plucked a plump, ripe berry and offered it to Jim. "Care for a bite, Captain?" 

He dipped his head and took it from my fingers with his teeth, then smiled as my breath hitched. He licked the juice from his lips, and my tongue swept over my own lips in helpless imitation. 

"Captain." Dr. Carrington sounded irritated. He glared at Jim, and I hoped he hadn't witnessed the little by-play with the strawberry. "There is nothing alien in this room." 

"I can see that, Doctor." He signaled to his men. "We're finished in here." 

"In that case, _we_ have work that needs to be done." He and the other scientists stood clustered together. 

"There's nothing here for me either." Connor plucked another strawberry. "I'm going to see if Tex can get a message through for me. The greatest story since Noah's ark, and I can't get it to my editor. You should count yourself lucky, Ellison!" She grinned at Jim as she walked backward toward the door. "So few men can boast of losing not only a flying saucer, but its pilot as well." 

"If she was a man..." Taggart frowned after her. 

"You wouldn't find her so fascinating, big guy." 

"The woman's a pain-in-the-ass, Jim!" 

"You still find her fascinating though, don't you?" 

"Give it up, Joel." Erickson slapped his back. "You know we can't keep secrets from our captain." 

Dykes looked at him with concern, and Erickson gave a small shake of his head. I wondered what that was about. 

"Assholes." Taggart's dark cheeks became darker under his flush, but he didn't appear angry. 

Ice-blue eyes warmed with amusement. I observed this aspect of Jim's personality with interest. 

"If you're not going to leave, Captain Ellison, please close the door." Dr. Carrington's tone was mild, but there was something underlying it... 

Dr. Stern spoke rapidly in his ear, and Carrington smoothed his hair and nodded. 

The senior botanist faced us. "Some of these plants are very delicate, and any change in temperature will hinder their growth, thereby negating the experiments you've worked so hard on, Blair." 

"Come on, men." Jim looked over his shoulder at me, his eyebrow raised, and I shook my head. The greenhouse was my responsibility, and I was going to give it a once-over personally. 

"Dr. Sandburg." 

"Yes, Dr. Carrington?" I was approaching the storage bin. 

"Would you mind finding Drs. Auerbach and Olson and sending them here? I'd like to speak with them, please. Oh, and I'll need the results of the experiments you ran on the MacCormick molds verified." 

I came to an abrupt halt. "Excuse me? Those results have been verified." 

"Andrew has brought up some discrepancies." 

"Dr. Carrington..." Why was he questioning my work? There was no discrepancy that I knew of. "Dr. Stern?" I looked toward the man who was my actual superior. There was a hectic color high on his cheekbones. He shrugged, and his gaze skittered away from mine. 

"I want those experiments run again." Carrington was adamant. 

"But..." 

"Thank you, Doctor." He turned away in blatant dismissal. 

I stormed toward the door, my fists clenched, growing more and more frustrated. 

Jim was lingering outside the greenhouse. I opened my mouth to vent some of my aggravation, but before I could say a word, 

"And _please close the door_!" 

I closed it. I used more force than was actually necessary; later I would be embarrassed by such a childish act, but right then it felt good. 

"Trouble, Chief?" 

"I've got a degree in psychology, a master's in anthropology, and a doctorate in botany," I snarled, "and the man treats me like a... Do you have any idea how many times I've verified my results?" 

"Chief..." 

"You know what it is, Jim? Andrew Laurenz is Carrington's fair-haired boy, he's being groomed to take over when he passes on the torch. It fries Carrington's ass that Dr. Stern keeps giving me that hack's work, and I do it better and more expeditiously than he ever could." 

"You're tense, Chief." 

"You think this is tense? You ain't seen nothing yet!" I was so steamed I felt like Mount Vesuvius about to erupt. "Would you believe I actually cited Laurenz? Man, who did he steal... Shit. I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry." 

"I hate to say this, but Stern didn't back you up." 

"No. He didn't." And that not only angered me, it disturbed me. Why hadn't he backed me up? What in hell was going on? 

"I wish there was something I could do to ease your tension." Jim stepped behind me, and his hands settled on my shoulders, kneading the knotted muscles. 

I looked toward his men, but they had rounded the bend of the corridor and were out of sight. I groaned and dropped my head. "God, that feels good, Jim." 

"Glad the military can be of some service." The smile in his voice did things to my libido. 

"I could stay like this forever, but..." 

"I know, Chief. Orders." 

"Yeah. Thanks, Jim." He dropped his hands, and I turned to face him. He was so close he encroached on my personal space. I stepped closer, until there was no space between us. I ran my thumb over his lower lip. //One day,// I thought, //one day I really want those lips around my dick again...// 

His lips parted, and he sucked my thumb into his mouth. He rubbed his tongue along it, the way he had when it was my dick. His eyelids drifted down until only a sliver of blue was visible. His chest rose and fell with each rapid breath. My own tongue restlessly rubbed my upper lip. 

I ran my other hand over his close-cropped hair. "Jim!" 

He let my thumb slide out of his mouth, and I dragged it over the faint cleft in his chin, leaving a path of moisture behind. 

"I have to kiss you!" I heard the desperate hunger in my words and was shocked out of the haze of lust I'd been enveloped in. "Dammit, we can't do this in the middle of this corridor!" 

"We can't? No, you're right, babe, we can't." He smiled. 

What an innocuous word that was, I mused. According to Webster's Dictionary, a smile was a widening of the mouth, with parted lips. It was obvious to me the guy from Webster's had never seen Jim Ellison smile. 

That widening of his mouth, with parted lips, was like the aurora borealis lighting up the Arctic sky. It was warmth on a cold, cold night. It was being laid out naked on a soft bed and having every inch of my body lapped, mapped, and declared the possession of the man before me. It was... 

"Are you still tense, babe?" 

"Yes!" I growled. 

"But in a good way?" His had cupped my arousal. 

This time I laughed. "Yes." 

His sigh was warm on my face. "Well, our visitor isn't in the station, so I'd better get my men back to searching outside. Y'know something, Chief? It would be swell to be on a sun-drenched beach somewhere with you." 

"Ever make love in the sand, Jim?" 

He groaned. "When we have this Man from Mars thing settled..." 

"Yeah..." 

The door to the greenhouse opened. "Dr. Sandburg, are you still here? Where are the doctors? Captain Ellison. I thought you were going to... er... do military things." 

"Getting them, Dr. Carrington. I'll see you later, Jim." 

"You bet, Chief. Doctor Carrington." He strode off in the direction his men had gone, and I watched his ass. 

There was a cough behind me. 

"I'm on my way, Dr. Carrington." And I left to find the two scientists. 

* * *

How long had I been working in my lab? The results of the tests I'd run on the mold spores came out the same way, no matter which way I looked at them, and I flung the papers away from me. 

I knew there had to be something wrong with what I was doing, with the way I was doing it, otherwise why would Dr. Carrington be questioning my work? 

I scrubbed my face. I couldn't understand why Dr. Stern hadn't backed me up. I respected the man, even more so after working with him for the past year. If he was unhappy with the way I did things, this was the first I'd heard of it. Why hadn't he taken the time to tell me? 

I'd thought I was a good botanist, but apparently the senior scientists disagreed with my assessment of my own capabilities. 

I gnawed on my lower lip. Until Eli Stoddard made mincemeat of the topic I'd selected for my dissertation, I'd also thought I was a good anthropologist. 

Thinking of the subject of my dissertation... 

I began to think about Jim. I remembered how he'd been able to name every ingredient in the drinks we had had at the Hideaway. Taste. 

Here at the station, he'd known something was wrong long before Barnes came running into the mess hall. Hearing. 

He'd known the bodies of the dogs were there in the snow, had picked up the scent of their blood. Sight and smell. 

And how had he been able to untie himself by touch alone? One of Naomi's gentleman friends had been a sailor who had been tickled by my hero worship of him. He'd spent hours teaching me to tie knots. 

I ticked off the senses one by one, growing more and more excited. Had I found an honest-to-god sentinel? 

And then I deflated. Did it really matter? I was a botanist, and in spite of everything, I really liked my job. 

I left my lab and went to the mess hall. 

"Mrs. C! What are you doing here?" 

"No one seems to have gotten much sleep. The boys are getting breakfast ready." 

"Breakfast? It's only... Holy smoke, it's 8 A.M. already?" 

"This has been a long night." She shrugged. 

"That's for sure!" 

She pressed a cup of coffee into my hands. 

A draft of cold air blew in, followed by four men so bundled it was impossible to identify who they were. Gloves were yanked off and bare hands unwound scarves, shoved snow-covered hoods back off their heads, and flipped off goggles that protected their eyes from the biting pellets of snow. 

It was Jim, Taggart, MacAuliff, and Barnes. They looked worn out. 

"Lee! More coffee!" Mrs. Chapman ordered. 

Shivers shook each of the men, and they fumbled with the zippers of their outer gear. 

"Let me give you a hand with that, Jim." 

"Thanks, Chief. I've never been anywhere this cold before!" 

"Welcome to the North Pole." While I got him out of his wet flight suit, Mrs. Chapman and one of the boys helped Taggart and Barnes. MacAuliff indicated he'd take care of himself. 

"Stubborn Scot." 

He gave Jim a tired salute. 

"We're not gonna be able to keep this up, Cap," Taggart muttered, blowing on his fingers. I offered him a steaming cup of coffee, then brought one to my lover. "It has to be fifty below out there!" 

"You're right." Jim ran a hand over his face. He gave me a quick smile and accepted the cup. "I already talked to Captain Banks about it. As soon as he and his men have made a quick sweep, they're coming back in, and we'll make sure everything is buttoned up tight until this storm eases." 

"Danny." Mrs. Chapman seemed concerned about Barnes. "Why were you out there with Captain Ellison's men?" 

Jim was the one who answered. "Lieutenant Erickson was falling over from exhaustion, and Lieutenant Dykes has been trying to help Tex get more power to his radio. Barnes volunteered." 

Mrs. Chapman squeezed the younger man's arm in approval. 

He hunched his shoulder. "I just don't want everyone thinking I can't pull my weight." 

I noticed his eyes lingered on MacAuliff before they dropped. 

"You do a good job, Danny." 

"Thanks, Mrs. C. But I really made a fool of myself yesterday afternoon when I...er..." He bit his lip and sighed. "When I puked all over my boots." 

"That's nothing, Barnes." MacAuliff toed off his boots, then stripped the pants of his flight suit down and off his legs. Barnes' eyes grew enormous. MacAuliff noticed, and his lips twitched in a satisfied grin. "The first time I had to jump out of a B-19, I sh..." He turned bright red, and cleared his throat. "Well, I had to change my shorts after I hit the ground." 

Barnes gave a choke of laughter, then covered his mouth in embarrassment. "I'm sorry!" 

"Nah, it's okay. Things like that happen. Don't be so hard on yourself." He pulled his boots back on. 

Jim looked at the outer gear scattered over the floor. "Joel, do me a favor. Finish your coffee and take the flight suits to our quarters. Maybe they'll be dry enough to wear sometime in the near future." 

"Got it, Cap. Damn snow got in over my boots and soaked my socks. I'll change while I'm there. I really hate when I have cold feet." 

"Taggart! Say it ain't so, mate!" 

The black man spewed out a mouthful of coffee. "Jesus, Connor, don't sneak up on me like that!" He mopped his mouth on his sleeve. "Uh... say what ain't so?" 

"A big man like you, getting cold feet? I'm so disillusioned!" 

"Connor!" His teeth gritted, he scowled fiercely, and she stood there, a cool smile on her lips, returning his stare. "What are you doing here anyway? I thought you'd be pestering Tex to get your story sent." 

"The transmitter isn't powerful enough. Lieutenant Dykes said there wasn't a thing he could do. This storm is preventing anything from getting out." She turned away, her ever-present camera banging her hip. "How's about some coffee, Mrs. Chapman?" Connor found a seat at one of the tables and placed the cup down. She rotated it between her palms. The seat she chose gave her an unobstructed view of Taggart. 

"I take it you didn't find anything?" Mrs. Chapman went around making sure everyone had hot coffee. 

"Barnes flushed a polar bear!" Bob MacAuliff grinned at the younger man. 

"Were you scared? Those bears are nothing to sneeze at. They hate being disturbed when they're hibernating." Connor ignored all the surprised expressions. 

"Not once I saw it was just a polar bear." Barnes sent a little smile MacAuliff's way, but again quickly looked away. 

"Here. Have some coffee." He put his cup in Barnes' hands, then folded his own hands around them. 

Jim was frowning. I took my coffee cup and went to stand beside him. "What's wrong?" 

"I'd have sworn..." He lowered his voice. "I smelled Ken's aftershave on Bob." 

"You mean Bob borrowed it?" 

He gave me a look that asked if I'd fallen on my head. "I smelled it _on_ him. On his clothes, on his hands.... 

"Ohhh." 

"Yes. 'Ohhh.' I hope Bob isn't..." His lips tightened, and he said nothing more, just stared broodingly at his crew chief. 

"Why do you care?" It came out harsher than I would have liked, but what we had was too new for me to be completely secure in it. 

"They're my men, Chief." Jim gave me that look again. "The last thing I need is a romantic triangle." 

"And that's the only reason you're concerned?" 

"Jesus, it's enough! If Bob is screwing around on Ken, there'd be hard feelings. I'd have to see either one or the other was transferred out of my crew, maybe both of them, and they're damned good men. They've been with me since just after the war, and I don't want to break in a new navigator or a new crew chief!" 

Well, as long as he wasn't disapproving because he was jealous. I relaxed, and a yawn caught me unaware. I didn't even have time to slap a hand over my mouth. "Sorry, Jim. Geez, I'm beat. All I want to do is go to bed and sleep a hundred years." 

"Think you're Sleeping Beauty, Chief?" His voice went no further than my ears. 

"Only if you're Prince Charming." I knew it would take someone with sentinel abilities to hear what I said. 

Jim made a sound like the rumble of a jungle cat, and his gaze swept over me, furnace hot. I licked my lips, and that gaze narrowed on my mouth. He leaned toward me, and I wondered if he was going to kiss me, in spite of the fact that we weren't alone. 

And then the door to the mess hall burst open. Dr. Stern staggered in, his face twisted in pain, and his left sleeve shredded. 

It wasn't until I reached his side that I realized it wasn't his sleeve that was shredded; it was the flesh of his arm. 

* * *

I dropped my cup and caught him before his legs gave out from under him, and lowered him gently to the floor. 

"Lee, towels!" Mrs. Chapman was pale but contained. "I'll get the first aid kit. Captain Ellison, call my husband, please!" 

Jim went to the P.A. "This is the intercomm too?" 

I glanced over at him. "Yeah. Just flip that switch." 

He did, then leaned close to the mesh that covered the grill. "Dr. Chapman to the mess hall ASAP." 

I sat with my legs sprawled out, cradling the injured man in my arms. "What happened? Dr. Stern, what happened?" 

I could feel his blood saturating my shirt. Lee handed me some towels, and I placed them over the ruin that was his upper arm and applied pressure. 

There was an abrasion on his forehead, and a lump was rapidly forming. His eyes were closed and dark smudges stood out like bruises under them. 

We were surrounded by Jim, MacAuliff, and Barnes, Taggart and Connor. 

"Please, _don't crowd us_!" Mrs. Chapman knelt beside him, snapped an ampoule of ammonium carbonate and waved it under his nose. I forced myself not to flinch away from the odor that was almost overpowering. 

I looked over my shoulder to see if Jim was being affected by the smelling salts. He was right behind me, his brow was furrowed, and he was swaying. 

"Dial it down, Jim!" 

It took a second, but he got himself under control. "Right, Chief. Thanks." 

"Give him some air, and give me room to work!" Mrs. Chapman snapped impatiently, and she was automatically obeyed. 

"Can you find out what happened?" Jim, as the officer in charge, would need to know. 

"Josef, who did this to you?" 

His eyes fluttered open. For a second they were terrified, and his body stiffened, but then he sagged in relief. "I made it to the mess hall?" His voice was hoarse, a harsh whisper. 

"Yes, you're safe. But what happened?" 

Dr. Stern swallowed. "I was working in the greenhouse. Suddenly there was a blast of cold air. I heard Olson scream. Something struck at me, and I fell over. I hit my head..." He touched the lump on his forehead; his eyes closed, and he seemed to fade. Mrs. Chapman waved the ampoule under his nose again. His body jerked. 

"Can you continue, Dr. Stern?" 

He nodded; the action made him groan. "I must have been unconscious. When I came to again..." His voice was so low I had to bend forward to distinguish his words. "When I came to again, they were both dead, Auerbach and Olson, their throats were cut." 

I gasped, and Mrs. Chapman echoed the sound. I'd worked with those men for the past year, and she had known them even longer. 

"Thank god Helen isn't here! This is going to kill her!" Mrs. Chapman's eyes clouded. Dr. Olson's wife... widow. 

Jim grabbed an axe. "All right, we're going to the greenhouse." 

"Jim!" 

"Chief, I need you to warn everyone to stay put. And I want you to stay here. Please," when he saw I was ready to argue. 

I eased the injured man out of my arms and managed to get to my feet. I grabbed Jim's arm. He didn't object, although later I realized my grip must have been painful; it left bruises. "Be careful?" 

"Always." 

I went to the intercomm again and drew in a deep breath to steady myself. The last thing I wanted was to cause a panic, although I was unsure how successful I would be. When I was certain my voice wouldn't reveal the level of my anxiety, I threw the switch and spoke. "Attention, please. Our visitor is back, and he's dangerous. Stay where you are and keep your doors locked." 

"Like that's gonna do any good," someone grumbled quietly. "How could it get in? The outer door to the greenhouse was bolted shut!" 

Good question. 

Connor had a death grip on her camera. "I'm going, Ellison." 

"Just stay out of the way." 

She nodded tersely. 

"Everyone have a weapon?" They held up their axes. Connor had one of Lee's cleavers in her free hand. "Okay, let's go." They started for the door. 

Dr. Chapman came in, with Simon right behind him. 

"What's going on?" Simon was still in his outer gear. 

"Josef!" Dr. Chapman crouched beside the injured scientist. 

"The Thing's in the greenhouse. So are two dead scientists," Jim explained shortly, and Simon's mouth became a rigid line. Without saying anything further, they all left, and suddenly the room felt empty. 

Dr. Chapman raised the blood-soaked towels. His eyelids flickered, the only sign of his distress. 

"You've certainly gotten yourself into a pretty kettle of fish, Josef." 

"Hugo, I need to get him to sick bay. I'll be able to stitch him up there." 

"Yes, Esther. We'll have to carry him." He looked up at me, and I nodded. "Lee, more towels." 

* * *

Sick bay was down the corridor and around the bend from the mess hall, but that trip seemed to take forever. 

It wasn't very large, suitable mostly for sprains, strains, and the odd cut or dog bite; with Jim's ex-wife and now Dr. Stern the quarters were tight. 

"I can't stop the bleeding," Mrs. Chapman said through tight lips. 

Dr. Stern opened his eyes, which were glazed with pain. "Please, Esther, don't let me die." 

"Of course I won't let you die, you foolish man! I'll stitch you up, give you two quarts regular, and you'll be good as new." 

Dr. Chapman and I laid him onto a table as carefully as we could while Mrs. Chapman scrubbed up. 

"Blair, would you mind removing his shirt? Hugo, prepare the anesthesia, please, dear." 

I found the scissors and cut through the material of Dr. Stern's sleeve. My stomach heaved at the sight of what had been done to his arm. I forced myself to smile as if I weren't in the least disturbed. "This is nothing, Dr. Stern. Geez, I thought it was going to be serious! Why, Mrs. C will have you up and dancing the Lindy in no time!" 

His free hand manacled my wrist. "It's bad. I know, Blair. You have to listen to me. I have to tell you..." 

"It can wait until Mrs. Chapman has you patched up. I'm not going anywhere." 

"No, but ... Listen!" The senior botanist was becoming agitated. "You must listen to me! In the greenhouse. Arthur found some molds that were wilted. It would only have taken twenty seconds of exposure to cold air to damage them like that." 

"The Thing had been in there?" The layers of clothing I wore suddenly weren't enough to keep me warm. 

"Yes, apparently just before our arrival. Professor Laurenz examined the door minutely. The bolt had been sliced through. Unless you tried to open the door, you would have no cause to notice that. That's why Captain Ellison and his men didn't see it." He took a breath. "The storage bin..." 

"I thought I saw plant sap on it. I was going to take a look at it, but Dr. Carrington..." 

"Yes. I'm so sorry, Blair." His distress now appeared emotional rather than physical. "Arthur saw that as well." 

"Josef, if you don't calm down..." Mrs. Chapman's tension was evident to me, even if Dr. Stern was too caught up in his confession. 

"No! Let me finish telling him this! There was nothing wrong with the results of your experiments, Blair. I knew if you realized what we had discovered, you would have gone right to that captain and told him. We couldn't allow that. We needed to get you out of the greenhouse. I did what I thought was best." He laughed, a short, bitter sound. "Good intentions. The path to hell is paved with them. It hurt you, made you doubt yourself, I saw that too late, hadn't even thought... I'm sorry; I'm so sorry." 

"That's quite enough, Josef. Blair forgives you. Hugo?" 

Dr. Chapman started to put the anesthesia mask over the injured man's face, but he batted it away. "I must finish! After you left, Blair, we opened the bin and found one of the sled dogs stuffed within it. There was a curiously shrunken quality about it. When Auerbach showed up, he did a quick necropsy. The animal had been bled dry!" 

"Oh, no!" 

"Don't blame Arthur. He asked us to keep watch with him, but he made it very clear it was a voluntary decision for each of us. We all agreed to it. The opportunity to communicate with this being..." His eyes became frantic. "We _cannot_ communicate with it! It will be the ruination of mankind!" 

Dr. Chapman got the mask over Dr. Stern's face and started the anesthesia. He struggled a moment, and then succumbed to the gas. 

Mrs. Chapman set to work in trying to repair the arm. "I hope I can reattach the nerves. If I can't... Blair, I'm going to need two bottles of plasma to start, sweetie. Would you get them for me, please?" 

"Sure." I opened the refrigerator that held the station's blood supply. 

It was empty. 

* * *

We were lucky that Dr. Stern had a positive Rh factor. My blood type was O negative, and I qualified as a universal donor, but he was going to need more blood than I could supply. 

Dr. Chapman obtained a pint of my blood and placed a bandage over the vein in my forearm. "You'd better go change your shirt, Blair." 

"Yes." The material was clammy against my skin, but I decided to pay a visit to Dr. Carrington's personal lab first. 

I arrived there, filled with questions. 

I left, stunned and sickened by what I had seen, and changing my shirt became the furthest thing from my mind. 

Mrs. Chapman had assured Dr. Stern that I would forgive him, but I didn't know that I could forgive _them_. 

* * *

The coffee that had spilled when I'd dropped my cup was in a small puddle on the floor of the mess hall. I found a towel that had been overlooked in the haste to find something to stop Dr. Stern's bleeding, and I used it to mop up the liquid. 

I sat down. Connor's cup of coffee, long since grown cold, was on the table before me. Beneath it was a ring, and I concentrated on making sure the cup was precisely centered on it. 

A sound disturbed the silence of the room, and I gazed up to see Jim standing in the doorway, tension in every line of his body, his eyes narrowed, fastened on me. He inhaled and just as abruptly relaxed. I raised an eyebrow. 

"Not your blood, Chief." He turned as the rest of the party that had gone to the greenhouse entered the mess hall. 

"Next time, MacAuliff, make sure you raise the sights on that thing!" Simon gestured to the weapon the other man carried. "You nearly turned me and my men into Swiss cheese!" 

"Sorry, Captain Banks." 

"What...?" I met the crew chief's eyes. "I thought you knew bullets would do nothing against that Thing." 

MacAuliff gave me a half-grin that was distinctly lacking in humor. "Force of habit, Dr. Sandburg. It wasn't a pretty sight, not that Thing, and _not_ what was in the greenhouse." 

"That's what I don't understand. Why the greenhouse?" Simon's black face had a grayish cast to it. "Why not the radio room or the mineralogy lab with the uranium?" 

"It's the only place with arable soil, Simon. They found a dog in there, you know, Dr. Carrington and the others. It had been bled dry. Dr. Stern told me, before the anesthesia put him out." 

"The one you said was missing, Blair?" 

"I don't know, Simon." I'd told him about that before I'd gone in search of Jim. "I hope it didn't get to any of the others. Were you able to get Dr. Auerbach and Dr. Olson out of there?" 

"No. It was in there waiting for us." Jim's tension had ratcheted up, his level of anxiety seeming to rise in geometric progression. No one else appeared to be aware of it. "I didn't know. I didn't hear anything, didn't smell anything." 

The others looked curious, but I understood. His acute senses apparently had failed him. 

"Tell me what happened, Jim." I stood and gestured to the seat beside me, and after he'd sat down, I began kneading his shoulders. "One good turn..." I murmured. The muscles beneath my fingers were like iron bands. 

"We waited by the inside door to the greenhouse while Simon and his men went back outside to make sure it didn't escape through the outer door." He gave a harsh laugh. "Talk about your human arrogance. Bob was ready with the burp gun. Connor had her camera set to go." 

"Did you get your picture, Connor?" 

"No. It happened too fast, and Ellison was in the way." 

"You want to go back there, Connor? I'll open the door for you." 

"NO!" She was pale, the lines around her eyes and mouth pronounced. 

Jim's mouth twisted, but he nodded and resumed talking. "I opened the door. Jesus, it was right there! Eight feet tall, and those eyes...! It lashed out at me, but I was able to get out of the way in time." No doubt his senses had warned him of the impending attack. I'd have to give some thought as to why he hadn't known it was so close. "We slammed the door on its arm. Its arm... " He seemed to drift for a second, then shook his head. "It made that mewling sound Barnes had told us about, high-pitched and angry. Once the door was shut, I gave the nod to Bob to blast the Thing while the rest of us found two by fours to chock the door." 

I leaned down. "But why, Jim?" I whispered in his ear. "You knew bullets wouldn't hurt it." 

"No, but I hoped it would distract it, buy us enough time to brace the door. The key was gone." 

"It's trapped in there now, that's for damn sure," Simon growled. 

"You think so?" Taggart had come trailing in, wiping a handkerchief over his face, and caught the end of the conversation. 

"What are you talking about, Taggart?" Connor glared at him. "The walls are corrugated iron, Captain Banks and his men blocked off the outer door, and we secured the inner one. There's no way that Thing can get free!" 

"How did it get in here to begin with?" Simon found a clean cup and poured himself some coffee. He took a sip and grimaced. "Scorched! Who the fuck left the flame on under the pot?" 

"We had other things on our minds, Simon," I snapped. I knew his annoyance wasn't aimed at me, but my nerves were so raw any comment felt like an accusation. 

"Sorry, Blair." He was surprised. I never lost my temper. "With everything that's been going on... How's Dr. Stern?" 

"I don't know. He's lost a lot of blood. Mrs. Chapman finally finished sewing him together. I gave a pint of blood, and Redding and Stone are donating right now, Smith is in the wings, and Dr. Chapman said he was willing also. If any of your men are A or B positive, would you ask them if they'll donate? So far the only good thing that's come out of this is that Dr. Stern is AB positive." 

"Huh?" 

"Makes him a universal recipient." 

"Wait a second. I just brought up thirty-five units of plasma! No one's been hurt in the time we've been here! Well, except for the two men in the greenhouse." 

"And your ex-wife, Captain." Mrs. Chapman came in. "Is there any coffee left?" 

"How's she doing?" he asked reluctantly. 

"She's begun drifting in and out of consciousness. We're just lucky she doesn't need blood. Coffee?" 

"You don't want what's in the pot. I'll make some fresh." Connor went to the cooking area. "Say one word, Taggart, and I'll pop you one!" 

"Not me, Connor. Word has it you make java so strong you could float a horseshoe in it." 

"Damn right I can." She took it as a compliment. 

"Mrs. C, how is Dr. Stern?" 

She shook her head. "Time will tell. He's started to run a fever. It's low-grade right now. Blair, were you able to find out what happened to those units of blood?" 

"Yeah. Yeah. I found out." 

"Chief?" 

I pulled a wad of papers from my back pocket and smoothed them out. "Dr. Carrington's notes." The scientists in Dr. Carrington's lab had gotten into a vociferous argument, and I'd managed to leave without anyone knowing I had taken them. "I think you'd better read them." 

Jim scanned them quickly. "Oh, no. Oh, sweet jesus, no!" 

"Jim, what is it?" 

"Carrington's..." He couldn't bring himself to say it, so I did. 

"While he had me verifying those goddammed mold spores, Dr. Carrington was doing a little gardening." I took the pages back from Jim. "He took the seeds from the palm of that Thing's hand, planted them, and saturated the soil with two units of plasma. That was at 3:15. By 4 AM the first vines had broken through the soil, and twenty minutes later sprouts had developed. He used another two units of plasma every hour. When I saw them, they had form. Professor Voorhees had a stethoscope against the side of one of the larger ones." 

"Huh?" 

I made an unhappy sound. "The ones closer to the source of nourishment, the blood, were larger, while the ones further away were considerably smaller. I could almost find it as... fascinating as Dr. Carrington obviously does, except... Anyway, Professor Voorhees said he could hear them. That it was like the wail of a newborn baby." 

"This is not good. This is really not good! Joel, Bob!" 

Taggart snapped to attention, hefting the axe in his hand. 

"Where's Bob?" 

"Said something about taking a leak, Jim." He stared at Connor, clearly expecting her to... What? Blush? Sneer? Top it with something more graphic? She stared at him, all expression smoothed from her face, then turned and poured Mrs. Chapman her coffee. 

Jim nodded. "Simon, as head of security in this station, would you accompany me to Dr. Carrington's lab?" 

"Yeah. Let's go. Barnes." He looked around. "Where's Barnes?" 

I'd seen him follow MacAuliff out of the mess hall. Maybe he had to... use the lavatory too. 

"The hell with it." Simon went to the intercomm, then swore. "If I tell them to meet us at Carrington's lab, the eggheads will know we're wise to them. Mrs. Chapman, if Barnes and MacAuliff turn up here, tell them where we are, and tell them to haul ass." 

"Yes, Simon." 

"I'm going too." 

"Geez, Connor, don't you know any other words?" Taggart demanded. 

She blew an exasperated raspberry at him. 

* * *

"Dr. Carrington." 

"Captain Ellison, I did not request your presence here." The senior scientist was hooking up another bottle of plasma. The sprouts seemed even larger than when I had last seen them. 

Jim closed his fingers around the tubing that would feed into the soil. "Two of your colleagues are in the greenhouse, suspended from the ceiling, their throats cut." 

"That was not my fault," Carrington said calmly. "I did not ask them to do anything I would not do myself! I was in the greenhouse; I took the same risks..." 

"Blair." My name was spoken quietly, and I turned to see Dr. Chapman standing there. All I could think was that something had happened to Dr. Stern. I must have turned pale, because he brought his hand to rest comfortingly on my shoulder. "He's doing better. I started him on a third pint of blood. His temperature has come down a bit. It's around 101." 

"Mrs. Chapman said it was low-grade!" I kept my voice low. 

"It spiked, but it has come down. We're doing everything we can for him, Blair." 

"I was so angry with him. I felt so betrayed. And now he might..." 

He squeezed my shoulder to get my attention. "You had every right to be angry. You're not a child, and he shouldn't have treated you like one. He's been my colleague for quite a few years, Blair, but I can't condone what he and Arthur have done." 

We turned to look at the plant bed with an alien lifeform developing in it. 

Jim was saying, "They're supplying nourishment to seedlings much as you're doing with this plasma, Doctor. I have to say I much prefer your way. It's neater." 

"Captain Ellison, we are scientists. We owe it to our species to learn as much as we can from this being!" 

"What can we learn from that," Taggart interrupted rudely, "except maybe a quicker way to die?" 

"All that knowledge! That wisdom! Imagine, traveling all those millions of miles! We must do whatever it takes, and _yes_ , even die, it that's what it takes, if it will enhance our store of knowledge!" 

"Dr. Carrington, you're a certified genius, with enough letters after your name to have your own alphabet. You've won the Nobel prize. If you were for sale, I could get a million bucks from any foreign power for you." Connor's words made him preen slightly. He hadn't noticed her expression. "But right now, I think you're mistaking knowledge and wisdom." 

His brows met above his nose in a frigid frown. 

"She's right, Arthur. We don't know whether our visitor is coming in peace, or if he, it," Dr. Chapman sighed. "If this being is a scout, the forerunner of an intergalactic invasion." 

"Come now, Dr. Chapman. You're speaking like a frightened child instead of a man of science!" 

"You're right, Arthur, I am frightened!" 

"Right," Jim said. "Let's destroy this." 

"You _cannot_..." 

"Dr. Carrington." Tex came strolling in, a sheaf of papers in his hand. "There was a break in the weather, and I got that message through to General Fogarty." 

"And his response?" Carrington was almost quivering with excitement. 

"Yeah, I got that too, 'though toward the end it started breakin' up pretty good. Had to take it down in shorthand." He began to read the messages from Cascade. "'Fogarty to Ellison. Understand the pilot of the craft is alive. Use every means available to keep it alive.'" 

"There, you see, Captain. You must obey your superior's orders." Carrington's eyes glittered manically, and again I recalled that he hadn't slept in a few days. He usually got by on very little sleep, referring to it as a thief of time better spent doing other things. Maybe this time he was going on too little sleep. 

Jim took a step toward him, but Tex distracted him by clearing his throat. 

"Next message, 'Fogarty to Ellison. Radio silence is unnecessary. Acknowledge previous message.' 'Same to same. Continued silence is confusing. Acknowledge.' Same to same. Acknowledge.' 'Same to same.'" Jim and Taggart joined in. "'Acknowledge at once!'" 

Tex folded the papers and tucked them back in his pocket. 

"Look, Tex, get back on the horn. Tell General Fogarty that Thing's dangerous. It's already killed two people!" 

Tex pulled out a notebook and scribbled down the message. "Anything else, Captain Ellison?" 

"No. Yeah! Get someone to wake up Dykes. He should have had plenty of sleep by now." 

The radio man tipped him a salute and turned to walk out, pausing to step out of the way as Barnes and MacAuliff came running in. "Sorry, Cap. We were in the... uh..." They were both flushed. 

"Never mind, Tex. Bob can do it." 

"Bob can do what?" MacAuliff grinned. 

"Go get Eddie. I want a message out to Fogarty if it has to be delivered by dogsled!" 

"On my way, Jim." He glanced at Barnes, who glanced at Simon. 

"Do you need me for anything, sir?" 

"No. Get some rest. Who knows when we'll have another SNAFU. Come on. We've got to figure out what we're going to do." 

"I want the rest of the plasma, Dr. Carrington." 

"So sorry, I've used them all up." 

"Thirty-five units?" 

"You know how voracious the appetite of young things can be, Captain Ellison." 

Jim was appalled. 

I looked at the seedlings, which seemed to pulse with life. "What type blood are you, Doctor?" 

That question brought his attention to me. "I'm... why, I'm... I'm B positive. Why?" 

"Dr. Stern's going to need more blood. I'm sure you won't have any problem donating a pint?" There was an easy-going smile on my lips, but he could read my eyes. They promised I'd be after him if he didn't turn up. 

"No. Of course not." 

Voorhees and Laurenz stepped forward until they flanked Dr. Carrington. 

"You gentlemen, also." I waited until they nodded. "Good." I walked out. 

None of us said anything until we got to the bend in the corridor. "Do you think they realize they've lost you, Blair?" Simon hadn't bothered staying behind with the scientists. 

I shrugged. "For double domes, they can really lack smarts." 

"What are you talking about, Chief?" 

"I agree that we need to unlock the secrets of nature, but they're putting the quest for knowledge above the good of mankind. That Thing in the greenhouse is reproducing itself, just as Dr. Carrington is doing in his lab. Fifteen seeds from one palm. That means thirty from two." 

"I can do the math, Chief." 

"And suppose this isn't a fully mature representative of its species? Has he stopped to think what a hundred of those Things could do? A thousand? Needing blood to survive? If we don't destroy that Thing, it may well succeed in destroying us!" 

"But what did Simon mean when he said they'd lost you?" 

"It means that when this is over, I'm leaving the North Pole. I'll dig ditches if I have to, but I won't be a party to that, and I won't work with men who think that way." 

"Sandburg's pretty impressive when he's mad, isn't he?" 

"Yeah." Jim sounded proud. "And that's not the only thing about him that's impressive." And this time Jim sounded... possessive. 

I suddenly realized how uncomfortable I was. "I've got to change this shirt. I'll meet you... Fuck. Where should I meet you?" 

Simon pulled a cigar from his shirt pocket. "I've got to check on the men I've posted outside the greenhouse." 

"I'll make sure Sandburg makes it to his room safely. Can't be too careful." 

Simon grinned around the cigar between his lips, then took it from his mouth and pointed it toward us. "Shouldn't take you more than ten minutes, I would think. I'll meet you in my office, and we'll plot strategy. I have the blueprints to the station. Ten minutes, gentlemen." 

He walked briskly down the corridor whistling through his teeth, and I started laughing when I recognized the tune. 

If I Knew You Were Coming I'd Have Baked a Cake. 

* * *

When the possibility of death is near, the urge to mate becomes almost overwhelming. I knew that from experience. 

I opened the door to my room and stepped in. Jim was right behind me. The odor of sex hung in the air, faint, but still there, and I could feel my dick get half-hard in recollection. 

//Jim had sucked me to a mind-blowing orgasm, had curled his tongue around my dick in a final caress, and I'd collapsed backward onto my bed, absolutely, completely, totally boneless. He had given a huff of a laugh, and I'd cracked open an eye and watched him. He'd risen to his feet and rolled me over onto my belly. 

//My cheek had been flat against the rough cloth of the blanket. Jim petted my ass cheeks, and I'd basked and hummed in sated pleasure. 

//Jim had set my knees, spread wide, on the edge of the bed and hoisted up my hips, and first he'd worked a couple of lubricated fingers up my ass, crossing and re-crossing my prostate, working to relax me, although I was already so relaxed I was on the verge of melting, but he kept at it until I was mindless and begging, his name a litany on my lips. 

//He'd withdrawn his fingers, lined his dick up with my asshole, and he'd eased it into me when what I'd wanted... what I wanted...// 

Jim took a step toward me. I swallowed and ran my tongue over my lips, and he gave me another one of those smiles. It took a supreme act of will to keep the moan behind my teeth, knowing that this time I _would_ melt into a puddle at his feet. 

"Let's get you out of that bloody shirt, Chief." He began unbuttoning it. "Do you know, I nearly had a heart attack when I saw all that blood. Then I suddenly realized it wasn't yours. I'm sorry Dr. Stern was hurt, but I was so relieved you weren't." He pushed it off my shoulders. 

"I could tell the minute you knew it wasn't my blood." The blood on my shirt had seeped through my undershirt to my skin. I stared at the mess in distaste, grabbed the hem, and yanked it up and over my head. 

"Oh, babe!" 

Red tinged my arm and chest. "He bled so much, Jim." I used a clean, dry part of my undershirt to wipe it off, then dropped it to the floor. "Oh, damn. I just remembered. I've got no clean clothes." 

"What about this?" Jim took the shirt I'd draped over the back of my chair and started to hand it to me. 

"Uh... " It was the shirt I'd worn the other day, when I'd met him. I was stunned to realize it had been just the other day. We'd gone to dinner, had drinks afterwards, and then had each other on the front seat of Henri Brown's borrowed Corvair. The front of this shirt had dried come on it. I wondered it he could... 

His nose twitched. 

Of course he could! 

He held the shirt by the shoulders, a slow smile lighting his face. "Come on, Chief." 

I smiled back at him, turned my back, and slid my arms into the sleeves. He eased it up over my shoulders, and his arms came around to embrace me. His cheek was rough with his morning beard, and the sensation against the side of my neck as his lips grazed over it had me rubbing my ass shamelessly against the dick I could feel hardening against my crack. 

Jim's hand molded over my erection, then went lower to cup my balls. "I want to fuck you, Blair. I want to be buried so deep inside you that when we're done you'll feel me with every step you take." 

"Yes," I whimpered. How was it he could draw such sounds from me so effortlessly? No one else had ever had that ability. 

"Have we got enough time?" 

"If you do it fast and rough, we should have a couple of minutes to spare." My hands were already at my fly, undoing the button and yanking down the zipper. I shoved my pants and undershorts down to my ankles and spread my legs as far as the constricting material would allow. What could I lean on? The bed was too far, the chair was too... Fuck it, I bent over and braced my hands on my knees. "You ready, hot shot?" 

Jim groaned. "God, you've got a sweet ass, Blair." A glance showed me that he'd got the jar of Vaseline. He freed his dick and lubricated it. A drop of pre come clung to the tip, and I licked my lips again, wanting to taste him. He gripped his shaft and came up behind me, and I dropped my head. The heat of his dick was scorching as he rubbed in up and down my crack, teasing my hole. 

"Jim!" 

He finally gave me what I wanted, shoving in with one smooth thrust. His arm was around my waist, holding me snugly in place, and he began a fast, rhythmic pounding. "No mercy, Chief." 

"No. No mercy. Fuck me!" 

I couldn't masturbate myself. At the rate Jim was driving his dick in and out of my ass, if I removed a hand from a knee, he'd send us both sprawling across the floor. 

He worried my earlobe with his teeth, dragged his tongue over it, and then slid his tongue into my ear. He pulled back just enough to growl in my ear, "I can smell how close you are to coming, Blair." He wrapped a hand slick with Vaseline around my dick and began jerking me off. "I can _feel_ how close you are!" 

He moved his other hand from my waist to my chest, pushing aside the open halves of my shirt, and his fingers grew busy toying with my nipples, first one, then the other, pinching, squeezing, scraping his thumbnail over them, and I gasped and began to shake, shooting gout after gout of come into his hand. 

"Yes!" Jim's arm dropped to my waist and pulled me even more firmly against his groin, and I could feel the heat of his semen as he spilled himself into my back passage. 

We were both panting heavily as aftershocks rippled through us. Jim licked and nuzzled the side of my neck, his breath a warm wash over the moist path his tongue had left. 

"Are you serious about leaving here, babe?" His voice was muffled in my ear. He was softening. Carefully he disengaged us, and I shivered again from the sensation. 

I straightened with a groan. "I'm serious, Jim." 

He stood there, completely dressed, only his dick exposed. He'd taken me like that. A flash of heat went through me at the thought of how we must have looked as he thoroughly ravaged me. 

He lapped at the come in his palm, as fastidious as a cat, smiling at the almost inaudible sound I made. 

A trickle of come ran down the inside of my thigh. Jim handed me a handkerchief, and when I was done with it, he took it back and wiped himself off. 

"Then how about moving in with me until you find another job?" 

"And when I find another job?" 

"Stay with me." The words were casual. 

"For how long, Jim?" I didn't want to get all girl-y on him, but I needed to know if he saw what we had together in the same light. 

He tucked himself away, did up his trousers, then pulled mine up, leaving them unzipped as he buttoned my shirt. "I'd like to try it for a week." 

"A _week_?" 

His head was down as he concentrated on tucking my shirt into my pants and zipping my fly. "For starters. From there we can go on to a year, two years, three years, the rest of our lives..." 

I caught his chin in my fingers and raised his head. Oh, that smile. "You were teasing me? You..." 

He kissed whatever I was going to say off my lips. I sighed into his mouth, looped my arms around his neck, and leaned my weight against him. His hand was possessive on the curve of my ass. 

I pulled away reluctantly. "Simon is going to be waiting." 

"We've got a couple of minutes to spare, Chief, but you're right, we'd better get going." 

We left my room, and I led the way to Simon's office. 

"Jim. What's the military going to think?" 

"I can get a place off-base. As long as we're discreet, there shouldn't be a problem." 

"Okay." I could hope. Maybe there would come a day when we'd be able to live together as lovers openly. 

* * *

We walked into Simon's office, and he looked at his watch and shook his head, grinning around his cigar. "Right on time!" 

"Of course. Was there any reason why we wouldn't be?" I asked innocuously. 

"Blair, you've got whisker burn and a love bite on your neck, and I don't need to be one of your sentinels to be able to see it's recent." 

I couldn't prevent myself from reaching up to touch the spot where Jim had bit me. It stung slightly. Jim gave me one of those smiles and buttoned the collar of my shirt, then pulled it up until it covered my neck to my chin and gazed at Simon. 

"Don't you think we have more pressing matters than the state of Blair's neck?" His tone was cool, and I remembered reading about the protective qualities of a sentinel, especially toward his guide, the man or woman who helped him control his senses. Could _I_ be Jim's guide? I temporarily lost track of the conversation, the smile on my face most likely fatuous. 

With an effort, I brought my attention back to the present. 

"Simon, you'll have your men keep watch on the greenhouse? Both doors, two hour shifts?" 

"They've been doing that, Jim, but with the way that wind is blowing, it must be like seventy-five below out there. They can't last more than twenty minutes." 

My lover was about to respond to that when, 

"Jim!" 

We all looked toward the door. 

"Ken." 

"Bob said you were looking for me." A flush ran from his chin to his hairline. "I was just... uh... just catching some zzz's, Cap." 

"Where's Eddie?" 

"Right here, Cap. I was catching some zzz's too." 

"Right." It was obvious that Jim didn't believe him. I wondered what his senses were picking up. "Get back to the radio room and see what you can do about boosting the power. We're having no luck getting messages out, and what's coming in from General Fogarty may suit Carrington, but it doesn't make me happy." 

"I'm already there." Dykes vanished from the doorway. 

Ken looked after him, and I would have sworn the expression on his face was infatuated. 

Joel poked his head in. "Jim, I just remembered. Our flight suits are still in the mess hall. And they're damp." 

He sighed. "Okay, let's go get 'em and bring them to our quarters. We'll spread them out and hope they dry soon." 

"Jim, I'm pulling my men in. There will just be the interior guard." 

"Okay, that makes sense." Jim rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. "Thanks, Simon." 

"Then I think I'll go see if Dr. Stern needs more blood. He isn't one of those bigots who thinks a black man's blood isn't as red as a white man's. I'll see you later." 

"Right." 

Simon headed toward the corridor that led to the greenhouse. I watched him stride off, then turned back to my lover. 

"Mind if I go with you, Jim?" 

"Not at all, Chief. I'd kind of like to keep you close. If _you_ don't mind?" We began walking toward the mess hall. Taggart and Erickson were already a few yards ahead of us. 

"Are you kidding? If we didn't have all this trouble with our Man from Mars, I'd ... uh..." I glanced at his men, but they were preoccupied, talking about the move of the Chicago White Sox spring training camp from Pasadena to Palm Springs, in California. The West Coast didn't have any major league ball clubs, but maybe one day one of the teams would wise up and make the move. 

"You were saying, Chief?" 

"Huh? Oh." I smiled to myself. "I'd lure you to my room, lock you in with me, and keep you there all night." 

"Just all night, Chief?" 

"Jim, we're in the Arctic. The nights are six months long!" 

"Well, that makes another thing the Arctic has going for it!" 

"'Another' thing?" 

"It's got you here, Chief." 

I nearly tripped over my feet. That was the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to me. 

* * *

We picked up the damp flight suits and were heading for Jim's quarters. "Getting a little untidy there, aren't we, Chief?" 

"I don't follow you, Jim." I was piecing something together in my mind, and I had no idea what he was talking about. 

He nodded toward my waist, and I looked down, expecting to see I'd forgotten to do up my fly. Instead, my shirt tail was hanging out. I shrugged. "It's a little stiff to wear next to my skin," I obfuscated, making a point of meeting his eyes and keeping my breathing normal. I had no intention of telling him what was hidden by my shirt. "You know how that can be." I gave him my most charming smile, flirted with my eyelashes, and stroked my fingertip over his chest. 

Jim's eyes grew hot. He tugged a curl loose from its tie and brought it to his face. He seemed to accept my explanation as reasonable. I blew out a surreptitious breath. 

Footsteps came pounding up from behind us, fast. My lover appeared unconcerned, but it still took a conscious act for me to not quite jump out of my skin before I saw that it was Connor who hurried on by. 

"Hold on a tic, Taggart." 

"What, Connor? Afraid of the boogey man?" 

"Not a chance, mate. I used to be married to him." She adjusted her camera over her shoulder, ignoring his stunned expression. "I want an interview with the man who worked UXB in London for six months after the war." 

"UXB, Jim?" I whispered. 

"Unexploded bomb, Chief. Joel was part of an elite bomb squad, for six months, as Connor said." 

"C'mon, Taggart, tell. What happened?" she pressed. 

He glared at her, then stalked into the quarters the fliers had been assigned. 

"I will get the story from him, y'know." 

"Let it be, Connor." 

She looked Jim over with interest. I wanted to shove her away from my lover, but she was a reporter, and if she learned how things stood between Jim and me and made a story out of it, it could cost him his commission. 

Jim's return look was detached, and after a minute, Connor gave a small laugh, hunched a shoulder, and went after Taggart. 

"I hope she doesn't push it. Joel doesn't like talking about that time. He lost his partner, a woman he was coming to care for. I flew over to England, pulled him out of the whiskey bottle he'd climbed into, and got him back as my copilot." 

Jim followed the other two into the room. I stood in the doorway watching him. What a great guy I had chosen to fall in love with. 

"Hey, Jim, Bob and Danny found some coat trees! We can hang our flight gear over them. They'll dry much better that way." Erickson was suiting action to words. 

MacAuliff and Barnes were sitting side by side on one of the cots. Jim studied Erickson, but if he was searching for signs of jealousy, he didn't seem to find them. "Sounds good to me." 

Erickson went to the cot. "Shove over, you two." He sat so that Barnes was in the middle, like a piece of bologna in a sandwich. 

The expression on Jim's face suddenly became that of a man who had found the light switch. And then it hit me too. The couple had become a threesome. I swallowed a laugh. 

Jim arched his brow at me. "Come on, Chief, get a move on! Let's get that suit dried out!" He draped his flight suit over one of the coat trees. "Y'know, something's been nagging at me, and I just realized what it was." 

"You gonna enlighten us, Cap?" 

"Remember I said that Thing's arm was caught in the door when we tried to slam it shut?" 

"Yeah. What about it?" 

"It was the arm the dogs had torn off." 

"Are you sure?" "I never heard of anything like that!" "Oh, my god!" "That's impossible!" 

"Not impossible. Not if it's a vegetable," I asserted. "And y'know, Jim, now that I think of it, _that's_ got to be why you didn't know it was right there, behind the greenhouse door. Vegetables don't have much of an odor unless they're rotting. They don't breathe, not as we do. There's no heartbeat either. If it was just standing there, waiting, there would be no way for you to know that." 

"That's great, that's just peachy-keen!" Taggart took an impatient turn around the room. "Okay, fine. It's a vegetable. What do we do with a vegetable?" 

"Bake it." It was Connor who came up with the answer. She met each man's eyes and shrugged. "That's what my old mum used to do with veggies. Bake it, boil it, stew it, fry it." 

"Yeah," Jim said. He was staring at the can that held the kerosene that fueled the stove in the center of the room. "Yeah." 

Taggart saw where his eyes were and enlightenment dawned on his dark face. "I'm pretty sure I saw a flare gun in the footlocker by my bunk. We can use it to ignite the fuel. This way we don't need to get too close to those knives that Thing calls fingers." He went into the other room and flicked on the light switch. We could hear him rummaging around. "Got it!" 

MacAuliff and Erickson bounced to their feet and went to the lockers at the foot of their cots. "Us, too!" They displayed the flare guns they found triumphantly. 

"We'll need cans, Jim. We can fill them with kerosene and douse that Thing from different angles." 

"Here's one!" Barnes pulled it from under one of the cots. The walk to the lavatory could be long and cold in the middle of the night. 

"Okay, now let's make sure everyone else is aware of what we're planning. We don't know where it's going to strike or how much time we've got, so let's get moving, people!" 

* * *

"Jim, we left the axes in the mess hall. I'll go back and get 'em." 

"Thanks, Joel." 

"We'll need some extra fire extinguishers, too. The last thing we need is the fire getting out of control." I walked toward the door. 

"Okay, Chief." 

The tone of Jim's voice had me glancing back over my shoulder just as he smiled at me, and I barely missed walking into the doorframe. "Uh... be right back." 

I headed for a storeroom where I knew the spare fire extinguishers were kept. 

"Sandburg." 

"Yes, Lieutenant?" 

Taggart gestured for me to keep going, and he fell into step beside me. 

"I've been watching you and Jim." 

"Oh?" I made my face blank. Was he going to warn me off, tell me to keep away from his captain? Was he going to try to beat the shit out of me because I was homosexual? 

"I want you to know that Jim Ellison is more than just my captain; he's also my friend. He's not only saved my life, he's also pulled my bacon out of the fire more times than I want to think about." 

"Yes?" Where was this leading to? 

"I saw how miserable Jim was with his ex-wife. I don't like the idea of him fucking another man... He is fucking you, isn't he? I mean, the thought of you fucking him... Don't tell me, please." 

"Does it matter that much?" He looked miserable, and I sighed. "Jim fucks me." 

"I knew it. Jim would never..." 

"Lieutenant Taggart, did you have a reason for wanting to discuss my love life?" 

"Oh, sorry. What I started to say was that I haven't seen Jim this happy in a very long time. So, if it makes him happy to fuck another guy... uh... Well, I guess it's okay." 

"Thank you so much." My sarcasm went right over his head. 

"But you see, if you're going to be... um... _involved_ with Jim, there's something I want you to be aware of." 

"You're making me nervous, Lieutenant. Does he have a social disease? Does he turn into a wolf under a full moon? Is he a card-carrying Communist?" 

Taggart considered the last so ridiculously ludicrous he ignored it completely. 

"Okay, here it is. Sometimes Jim will... act a little strange. He'll stand there staring off into space, like he's lost in some kind of trance or something." 

"I understand." 

"You do?" He scratched his hand. "I'll be damned if I do!" 

I did understand. Sir Richard Burton had mentioned that sometimes a sentinel's senses would overload, and he would lose all track of the here and now. "Do you mind if I ask why you're telling me this?" 

"When this Thing comes in, Jim's gonna go after it swinging. If he trances, he'll be dead." He offered me the flare gun he'd brought from the other room. "I don't want him dead. You'll see to it." 

I took the flare gun, then raised my shirt tail out of the way, revealing one of Lee's spare cleavers. "I'll see to it. I won't let him trance, and I won't let that Thing hurt him. Now go get the axes." 

* * *

We were as ready as we were going to be. 

"You sure you can use that thing?" Erickson asked Barnes. 

Barnes had one of the flare guns. He licked his thumb, ran it over the sights and peered over it, and attempted a grin. "I've seen Gary Cooper in Sergeant York." 

Erickson was fidgeting with the can of kerosene he held. "Is Eddie gonna be okay in the radio room?" 

"There're no windows and only the one door. Tex said they'd be fine." 

"Is he sure?" MacAuliff was fidgeting as well. 

Jim frowned at him. "What's with you two all of a sudden?" 

MacAuliff opened his mouth to answer. 

Tick. Tick. 

His mouth snapped shut, and we all turned to stare at his Geiger counter, which had flickered to life. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. 

"Okay." Had Jim's mouth gone as dry as mine? "Show time. Connor..." 

She held up her camera. "I know enough to stay out of a firefight, Ellison, but I will get a picture." 

"Blair..." 

I had been notifying everyone via the intercomm that our guest was loose and roaming the station. "I'll stay out of the way, but I won't huddle in a corner, Jim." 

Ticktickticktickticktick. 

"I don't want you hurt." He was gripping an axe in his hands. 

"I could say the same thing, John Wayne. Can you hear anything?" 

He paused, concentrating, and swallowed. "Footsteps, Chief. They don't sound human." 

The breath I drew in didn't steady me as much as I'd hoped. I licked my lips and nodded. 

"The Geiger counter's reached the top, Cap!" 

"Kill the lights, Chief." 

I had no sooner pressed the switch then the door to the adjoining room burst open. 

The Thing stood in the doorway, backlit by the light Taggart had left on. Its head swung from left to right, as if it was locating each of us. I was thankful I couldn't see its eyes. 

Its hands with those fingers like knives clenched, and I shivered and raised the flare gun I had as the Thing stepped clear of the door. 

Two steps, three steps into the room, and Erickson threw the first barrage of the flammable liquid. The Thing shook its head furiously and let out that sound Barnes and Jim had both described. 

MacAuliff's aim was as good, and more kerosene drenched the Thing. 

Barnes extended his arm, and the muzzle of the flare gun flashed light as the first cartridge was discharged. It struck the Thing, igniting the kerosene and bursting into flames. 

The sound it made changed to a bellow that was filled with thwarted fury, and it swung blindly. Barnes threw himself out of the way just in time, falling backward over one of the cots, letting out a small cry of pain, distracting Erickson. 

I took aim, but Connor was standing in the way, her camera before her face. The Thing took a step toward her. 

"NOOOO!" Taggart howled. He leaped forward, swinging his axe with deadly intent. 

"Back off! Give me a shot! _Give me a shot_!" 

The Thing caught him across the chest with a blow from its arm, and Taggart went flying across the room, his shirt starting to smolder. 

MacAuliff was the only one throwing kerosene on the Thing now. The fire blazed, but that didn't stop it. And it was heading for Jim. Its arms were outstretched, the fingers slightly curved, ready to slice my lover to ribbons. 

My concentration zeroed in on my lover and the adversary who was stalking him, and I shut out everyone else in the room. I took a step forward and to the side, raised the flare gun, and fired straight at those hate-filled eyes. 

The sound it made was like nothing I'd ever heard before, a shriek, a bellow, a scream. It clutched at its face, whirled and ran for the door. I grinned and pulled the cleaver from my belt. It was going to smash into the door and knock itself stupid, and then I was going to chop it into Man from Mars crudites. 

Only the door gave way before it, and it escaped into the storm. 

* * *

Jim and I rushed to the door, which lay canted at an angle on the snow previous, milder storms had deposited. Wind and snow swirled, blowing into our faces, making it difficult to breathe and almost impossible to see. 

"Look at this!" Jim shouted to be heard above the wind. He touched first the hinges that should have kept the door in place, and then the lock, taking care not to cut his fingers on the razor-sharp edges. 

The hinges and the bolt were sliced clear through. I felt sick. 

"You mean it was planning an escape route?" Taggart demanded hoarsely. He staggered to his feet "It's a fucking vegetable! How is that possible?" 

"That vegetable built a space ship and managed to cross the millions of miles of space between Mars and Earth." 

"Give me a hand with this, Chief," Jim grunted, and we angled the door into the room, then struggled against the wind to get it propped in place. "Someone get the lights!" 

Connor flipped the light switch, and we got a look at the destruction. "Fuck a duck." 

"Well, we've learned one thing, that fire can hurt it." 

"But not much, judging by the way it took off. And it's cost us. Just look at this!" 

The condition of the room was depressing. Soot and smoke and the reek of kerosene pressed down on us like a weight. The crackle of flames was a low counterpoint to the sound of the wind whistling in around the edges of the door. 

MacAuliff was making little headway with his fire extinguisher. There was too much kerosene over every surface. I grabbed an extinguisher and went to work helping him put out the numerous small blazes. 

Taggart growled in frustration. "Get your picture, Connor?" 

The reporter was beside him with a blanket, patting out his smoldering shirt. "You put yourself between me and that Thing, Joel. Thank you." Her words were matter-of-fact, but I detected a faint quiver in her voice. She coughed. "Damn smoke. You hot shots were all in the way. The one clear chance I had to get a picture of that Thing was just before I tripped and went ass over teakettle over the cot. I probably wound up with a picture of the ceiling and my feet." 

The door from the corridor burst open, and Dr. Chapman, Simon, and Redding and Stone, a couple of his security men, came running in. 

"Everyone in one piece?" Simon questioned around the cigar between his lips. 

There was a moan from the other end of the room. 

"Dr. Chapman, help me, please!" Erickson had an arm around Barnes' waist and was supporting him to his feet. Barnes' right arm hung limply. "Danny's arm is broken!" 

"I'm okay." Barnes was talking to MacAuliff. He tried to smile, but it was more like a grimace. "What gets me mad is that Thing didn't do it; I busted it falling over the bunk!" 

"Get him to sick bay, Lieutenant Erickson. My wife has been preparing for injuries, she'll see to his arm." 

Erickson and MacAuliff exchanged glances but said nothing. 

"Lieutenant Taggart, are you badly burned?" 

"No, Dr. Chapman. First degree burns mostly, I think. My chest hair is singed a bit, but the worst casualty is my shirt; it's gonna need a decent burial. I liked this shirt," he mourned. 

"Go down to sick bay too, please. Esther has some salve that will soothe that burn, and she should have something you can wear, as well." 

"C'mon, mate. I'll give you a hand." Connor slid an arm around Taggart's waist. 

"I'm hurt worse than I think, aren't I?" 

"Why d'ya say that, Joel?" 

"You're being nice to me. The only reason I can see you being nice to me is because I'm dying." 

Connor pulled away from him. "You're an asshole, Taggart." She bent and caught up the strap of her camera and stalked out of the room. 

Nobody said a word. 

"Me and my big mouth." Taggart stared after her, something like regret on his face. He sighed and followed Erickson and Barnes out of the room. 

The fat-bellied stove had been knocked over, a stream of kerosene meandering away from where it lay, almost as if it was drawn toward a tiny flame. I splashed a stream of CO2 from the extinguisher across its path, halting further destruction. 

Simon and his two men split up and were examining the room. Bedding was charred. Black streaks ran up the walls. 

Jim started to sway. The smell of burning kerosene, blankets, wood, was getting to him. 

Fortunately there was too much going on for anyone to pay any attention to us. I dropped the extinguisher and was at his side immediately. "Listen to my voice, Jim. Dial your senses down." I stroked his arm and continued to speak softly, and finally he focused on me. 

"I'm better, Chief. Thanks." His cheeks were still a little pale, and I remained beside him. 

"Redding," Simon barked, "check the other room." 

"Gotcha, Simon." In a matter of minutes he came back out, looking anxious. "There's a hole in the wall that butts on the same corridor that leads to the greenhouse. The wood was cut through, then put back in place like a piece from a jigsaw puzzle." 

"How did you spot it?" 

"Sawdust. It's all over the floor." 

"How could that be possible?" Simon growled. 

"Take a look at the hinges of this door, Simon. Sliced through like they were made of paper. Dr. Stern told me the bolt to the greenhouse door was in the same condition." 

"Let me see that!" Simon's mouth was a grim line. It became grimmer as he studied the door. "God*damn*!" 

"I want all of us out of here now." 

"Just a second. I had two men keeping guard in that corridor!" Simon went to the intercomm. "Raleigh. Winston. Report immediately." 

The intercomm sat mute. 

Jim turned to Simon, who was looking more disturbed with each passing second that brought no response. "I'm sorry, Captain Banks." 

Simon scrubbed his face. "Jesus. Can this get any worse?" 

"Look, this room is a total wash. I want access blocked off," Jim ordered. 

"What's the point?" one of the men groused. "It can cut right through the walls!" 

"So you want to make it easier for that Thing to get in, Stone?" Simon waited to see if there were any further comments. Redding opened his mouth, then shut it. Stone sulked but said nothing more. They knew better than to challenge the head of security when he spoke in that tone. "All right, I want two by fours to seal off that hole in the wall in the other room. I want fifty gallon drums, crates, whatever you can find to make exiting by this door difficult! Now move it!" 

The men moved it. 

Simon pulled the cigar from his mouth. "I have to check on Raleigh and Winston." 

"Simon..." 

" _They're my men_! I have to know..." His mouth twisted, and he strode out. 

"Bob, see if any of our gear survived, then get out of here. I'm going after Banks." Jim was gone before I could tell him to be careful. 

"Uh... Dr. Sandburg, would you mind taking these?" MacAuliff had gathered up jackets and caps. "The flight suits have all sustained damage; they're useless." He shifted from one foot to the other. "I'm worried about Eddie. Eddie Dykes, our radio man. The radio room isn't that far from here. He'd be an easy target for that Thing. And Tex, too." 

"You may have a point, Sergeant. Why don't you go see how Lieutenant Dykes is holding up? And Tex, too." I took the jackets from him. 

He gave a huff of laughter and started toward the door. "Thanks, Dr. Sandburg." 

There was something... 

"Just a second." 

He paused in the doorway. "Yes?" 

"Your breath!" 

His hand flew up to cover his mouth, and his cheeks turned red. "I'm sorry. I... uh... Geez, Doc, you know what come-breath can be like!" 

My jaw dropped. MacAuliff had sucked someone off? For half a second I was distracted, wondering if it had been Erickson or Barnes, and then I licked my lips, wondering what Jim would taste like. 

I'd make for damn sure I found out later. 

"Doc?" 

I snapped my mouth shut and glowered at the crew chief. "No, you dope! Look!" I blew a breath into the air. It was a white plume. 

"Yeah, so?" His puzzlement only lasted a few seconds. "Oh, shit, no!" 

"Oh, shit, yes. The heat's off. I've got to find Jim." 

"I've got to get Eddie!" He grabbed two of the flight jackets from me and headed for the radio room. 

I raced down the corridor that led to the greenhouse, slowing as I got closer to the junction. Simon and Jim were standing there, tension in every line of their bodies. The guards... 

There was a trail of blood starting in the middle of the corridor and apparently stopping at the door to the greenhouse. Odds were too good it continued past the door. 

"Raleigh and Winston?" I asked through dry lips. 

Simon shook his head, pinched the bridge of his nose, pressed his fingers over his eyes. "This is all I found." 

"Dammit." I knew the men vaguely. They did their jobs, kept to themselves, and didn't bother the Eskimo women. Simon would give them occasional weekend passes to fly down to Anchorage when they felt the need for a woman. Simon knew them better than I, and he would grieve for the loss of life, but... "I've got bad news." 

"Worse than the fact we've lost two more men to that Thing?" 

"I'm sorry, Simon, but yeah. The..." 

"Jim! Jim!" Erickson came running down the corridor, skidding in the blood as he tried to come to a halt. "The heat's off in sick bay." 

Simon's head whipped around, and he pinned me with a questioning gaze. "Talk to me, Sandburg!" 

"The heat's off period." 

"Goddammit!" He flung down his cigar. "Can't we catch a break at all? What are the chances the fucking pipes would choose _now_ to freeze?" 

"You couldn't have run out of fuel?" Jim asked. 

"No. We had an oil drop last week. _Dammit_. I'll have to send someone outside to check the pipeline..." 

"And they'll run right into Plug Ugly." 

Simon's eyes widened, then narrowed. "Of course, that makes perfect sense. I send some poor schnook out there, and that Thing has more food for its babies." He shivered. 

"How long will these walls retain heat?" 

"Not long enough." I nodded toward a thermometer on the wall. "It's about 40 degrees now. In a matter of minutes it will be down to 20. From there..." I started to shrug, but it turned into a massive shudder. 

Jim took the flight jackets from my arms and dropped them on a nearby stack of crates. I looked down at them stupidly; I hadn't even realized I still carried them. He picked one up and put it around my shoulders. 

"Mine, Chief." The jacket? Me? Either way he was correct. I slid my arms into the sleeves, liking the fact that it was my lover's jacket that would be keeping me warm. "What about you, Jim." 

"I'm naturally hot-blooded." His mouth quirked in a grin. 

"I'll go back to my room and get my parka." 

"Don't be too long." His hands were on the collar, and he gave me a little shake. "I'll worry." 

I leaned toward him, my eyes on his mouth. His lips parted, and I could feel the warmth of his breath wash over my face. I touched my tongue to my lips, wishing they were his lips, and raised my eyes to his. They burned hot. 

"Where's Bob?" Erickson grabbed his jacket, interrupting the moment. 

"He went to check on Lieutenant Dykes." I stepped back. "Later," I murmured so only Jim would hear me. 

"Yes." His assent was as soft, but I could read it on his lips. 

Erickson zipped his jacket, edgy with nerves. "I'm going to bring them both back here, okay? And... uh... Tex, too." 

"Fine, Ken." Jim spoke absently, his focus on the surrounding corridors. "Is there any other heat source available, Simon?" 

"Yeah. Some of the equipment needs to be run by electricity. And the only place where that Thing won't be able to cut off the supply is the generator room." 

"We'd better get everyone there. Babe, get going and meet me there, okay?" 

Simon didn't appear to notice the endearment, not that I would have much cared at that point. The probability of death hung too closely over us. 

I left my lover and the head of security with their heads together, making plans. 

* * *

There was always a background of noise in any polar camp: pipes rattling as oil was fed through them to the furnaces that heated the station; machinery humming; people talking, arguing, walking from personal quarters to mess hall to lab; the movement of the air as they went about their daily business. The subtle and not-so-subtle sounds of everyday life, so familiar they became unnoticeable, but always there. 

Until suddenly they weren't. 

Now there was silence, as if even the air cowered from what we had to face. 

I'd been in too much of a rush to get to my room, other things on my mind, but now my nerves had become jittery. I peered into shadows, afraid, more afraid than I had ever been in my life, of what might be lurking in them. 

My parka was zipped to my chin. I wore fur-lined gloves, and I'd found an extra pair that I hoped would fit Jim. Under my arm I carried his flight jacket, and I hurried. 

The temperature seemed to have dropped even more, and I was concerned about how his skin would react to the harsh chill. 

I began to hear the sound of hammers echoing in the corridors, and I wondered what had been decided in my absence. 

I came around the corner and jolted to a stop. MacAuliff was hugging Erickson and Dykes. "You two be careful, or I'll blister your asses!" he growled softly. "You know how much you mean to me!" 

Dykes turned his face and caressed the shorter man's lips. "We know, Bob-o. You mean just as much to us. What about Barnes?" 

"Danny's interested." I could hear the pleasure in MacAuliff's voice. "He's done a little experimenting, but nothing beyond hand- or blow-jobs. That's how he wound up here. His family got wind of it and had him shipped to the North Pole." 

"We all know how that can be. But dammit, he's a sweet kid!" 

"I think you're right. After this is all over, he's gonna want a change of scenery, and his busted wing gives him the perfect excuse. He said he'll come back with us." 

MacAuliff pulled Dykes' face down for a deeper kiss, then reached for Erickson and repeated the action. His hands tightened on their necks, and their arms tightened around him and each other. 

It seemed the couple that had become a threesome was actually a foursome! 

"Be careful." It was raw begging. 

"That's a promise!" "It works both ways, Bob!" 

"Yeah. Now get going before Jim comes looking for us. I think he already suspects there's something between Ken, me, and Danny." MacAuliff released the two men, and stepped back. 

"No one ever said the Cap wasn't sharp as a tack!" 

I backed away silently, ran to the opposite end of the corridor, turned and walked back, whistling between my teeth. 

"Hi, Dr. Sandburg." Erickson strode toward me, his step assured. His mouth was puffy. 

"Lieutenant." 

"Kisses sweeter than wine?" 

"Huh?" What the hell was he talking about? 

"That song you're whistling." 

"Oh." My cheeks felt hot. "Uh... You're keeping watch down this corridor?" 

"Yeah." He let it go. "Hopefully the Geiger counter will warn us before that Thing gets too close." 

"You've got one?" I hadn't noticed before. 

"Yeah. Captain Ellison made sure we all did. He's a good guy, the Cap." Erickson seemed to want to talk. "We've been with him since just after the War, you know. Best captain a guy could want." 

"Yes. He seems very... um... competent." 

"The thing is, he needs someone to make him happy. Even if it isn't who we originally thought would make him happy." 

"Oh. Uh..." Was he giving me his blessing? "How do the other men feel about it?" 

"We talked about it, and we're all in agreement. Our captain needs to settle down. See if you can talk him into someplace warm, where we don't have to wear fur-lined underwear. Although..." He gave himself a shake. "I'd better get moving. We flipped a coin. Eddie has the corridor that leads to the mess hall. We've got a bet going which way that Thing will come in." 

"Oh, yeah? And what do you think?" 

"I think it will get smart and go home. Nah, I'm just kidding." He grew serious. "I'm hoping it comes this way." 

"Feeling gung ho, Lieutenant?" 

"No. If you want the truth, I'm scared shitless. But Eddie's the youngest of our crew. If any of us has to face that Thing, I'd rather it was me." He looked uncomfortable. "And I'll be goddammed if I know why I just told you that." 

//Because you care so much about him, and you are worried,// I could have said. 

"Because you've been together since just after the war. Guarding someone's back, having someone guard yours, makes for a very strong bond of... friendship." 

"Yeah. Yeah, that's right!" He relaxed, oblivious to my hesitation before the word 'friendship'. "Well, banzai, Doc." He gave a jaunty salute and proceeded on his way, whistling. 

A lump formed in my throat when I recognized what he was whistling. 

You'll Never Walk Alone. 

* * *

As I approached the junction of the corridor, the banging of a hammer became louder, along with swearing as someone's finger was mashed. 

"Hey, Doc." MacAuliff pulled his thumb out of his mouth and forced a smile; he was alone, and I assumed he had sent Dykes on his way to keep watch over the corridor that led to the mess hall. "Hold on a second. I'll walk back to the generator room with you as soon as I get this last fucking nail in." 

"We've got to come up with some other way to destroy this Thing, otherwise we'll wind up burning the station down around our ears, and I hate to tell you this, Sergeant, but I think Plug Ugly deals better with the cold than we do." 

"I think you're right, Doc. Captain Ellison and Captain Banks have something in mind." 

"Something to do with this fencing wire you're nailing to the walls?" 

"Yeah. Though I'll tell you, it beats hell out of me what all those rolls of cattle fencing were doing at a research station at the North Pole." 

"You're in the military, Mac. Ever know the government to work in a logical manner?" 

"You may be right, Doc." He grinned. "Anyway, the only way for the Thing to get to the generator room is..." 

"Through this corridor or the one from the mess hall. I passed Lieutenant Erickson." 

MacAuliff nodded again. "Eddie's keeping watch at the other one. As soon as the Geiger counters start clicking, we'll pull them back. We've got a special surprise for our guest." His eyes were cold. "See these lengths of fencing up on the ceiling? They're under the wooden walk as well. Wire's been spliced into the cable that runs to the generator." He pointed to where it was stapled to wooden supports. 

"Our generator can crank out up to a thousand volts of electricity." 

"Yeah. Either way Plug Ugly comes at us, we'll juice him. He's gonna get one helluva hotfoot, and that'll teach him to fuck with Earthlings! Okay, I'm done here. Let's go." 

* * *

"Thanks, Chief!" Jim accepted the return of his flight jacket. Someone had loaned him a sweater, and it helped some, but even with his senses dialed way down I could see how the cold was affecting him. He slid his arms into the sleeves and zipped the jacket, and gradually the tremors that shook his body eased. I looked toward the generator room, torn between staying with my lover and making sure my friends were safe, at least for the moment. "Go on, Blair." Jim squeezed my arm, then gave me a small, encouraging push. 

Except for Jim and his men, and of course, Megan Connor, everyone in the station was crammed into the generator room. The air was close, smelling of humanity. They were wearing all the outer gear they could get their hands on, and there was an ebb and flow of movement as they stamped their feet in place and tried to keep warm. 

"Well, at least we'll be generating some body heat," someone joked feebly. 

In a far corner, Mrs. Chapman was hovering over Dr. Stern, and she was looking extremely concerned. I went to join her. 

"I don't like this, Blair." Her voice was very quiet. She was of the belief that just because a person wasn't conscious didn't mean he couldn't still hear what was going on around him. "Josef's temperature has spiked again." 

"An infection?" 

"A massive infection. I'm afraid it's become systemic. With the diagnostic tools available here, it's impossible for me to tell if it's viral or bacterial. If we can destroy this Thing, and if this storm lets up, and if we can get him back to civilization... " 

"Too many 'ifs'." 

"Yes. But the fact of the matter is he'll stand a much better chance in a hospital in the States." 

"Hell." 

"On the plus side, Carolyn Plummer's with us once more." 

"What happened?" My lover's ex-wife was sitting up, plucking nervously at the blanket that was tucked around her. She was wearing that flashy ski jacket. 

"What do you remember?" 

"I went to talk to Jimmy. The light in the storeroom was out; it was so dark. Something struck at me..." She touched the bandage on her temple. "I don't remember anything else." 

"You hit your head, and you've been unconscious." 

"But... I don't understand. This doesn't look like sick bay. What are we doing in this room, with all these people?" 

"The Thing that attacked you is out there, and we intend to stop it. This is the safest place for us." 

"Thing? What thing?" 

"'Thing' with a capital T, Miss Plummer. That's right, you've missed the latest developments with Super Carrot." She looked confused, and I tried to keep the tartness out of my voice. "Our interplanetary visitor." She still looked blank. "The Thing in the block of ice." 

"But it was frozen!" 

"Not any more." 

"Where's Jimmy?" 

Mrs. Chapman answered her. "Captain Ellison is organizing the men to fight off this Thing." 

She was starting to sound quavery. "I want..." 

I opened my mouth to snap she couldn't have Jim, he was mine, then shut it. She was hurt, and this was hardly the place for a confrontation. 

Carolyn Plummer's eyes welled up with tears. "I want Sam," she said in a tiny voice. 

_Sam_? 

There was a hand on my shoulder. "Blair." 

"Yes, Dr. Chapman?" 

"If you'll come with me?" 

I followed him out of the generator room to a small storeroom nearby where all the electrical equipment was kept. He handed me three pairs of rubber boots. "What...?" 

"So _they_ won't get a hotfoot." 

"Shit. I didn't even think of that!" I dropped the boots and pulled on a pair that would fit over my size 8 1/2s. 

"No, I imagine you've had a few other things on your mind. It wouldn't help if I asked you to remain in the generator room with the rest of us?" 

"No." I started to walk out of the storeroom. 

"Blair, about what's been going on; please don't hold this against Arthur." Dr. Chapman sighed when he saw the stubborn twist of my mouth. "He isn't thinking clearly. I'm a scientist, and even I can't fathom his thought-processes sometimes. And yes, I know you're a scientist too, but I have more years under my belt than you do!" 

"So we're supposed to let this go by because he doesn't think like normal people?" 

"You know how little sleep he can get by on. He's had even less this past week." He could tell from my expression that I wasn't about to relent. Abruptly he changed the subject. "Simon's told me that when this is over you'll be leaving." 

"Yes. I would have told you myself, but..." 

"But you had other things on your mind," he repeated. 

"Jim. Captain Ellison." I could feel my cheeks flush, and he gave a rueful smile. 

"Esther and I could both see there was something there. We knew it would happen someday. We're happy for you, Blair." 

"Then you don't mind that I'll be leaving here?" 

"We'll miss you, son, but we've suspected for some time now that this wasn't the place for you, not in the long run. Here now, what's wrong?" 

"Nothing. Something in my eye, is all." I had never been called 'son.' Not even by Naomi. "I'm sorry, Dr. Chapman. I just ... I'm sorry..." I suddenly found myself wrapped in a bear-hug. 

His big hands rubbed my back comfortingly. "It's all right." 

"Am I interrupting something?" Jim stood in the doorway, and I didn't need to have sentinel senses in order to tell something was seriously disturbing him. 

"Jim, what's wrong?" I was out of Dr. Chapman's paternal embrace and across the room to my lover without a second thought. Jim reached out as if to touch my face, then bunched his fingers and dropped his hand to his side. His expression was fierce, and I felt the need to hold him. 

Dr. Chapman laughed softly. "Blair." I stopped and looked back at him. He came to us, took my hand, took Jim's, and placed them palm to palm. "Take care of each other." He stooped and picked up the boots. "Be happy." 

We were alone in the storeroom. "He just gave us his blessing!" Jim was looking pole-axed. 

"Yes, I think he did." And I took the moment to pull Jim's mouth down to mine and kiss him thoroughly. 

* * *

"So, tell me what you think you're doing, Chief." 

Disheveled curls had spilled around my face. "Hmmm? Tying my hair out of the way." Jim's restless fingers had freed it from the tie that usually kept it confined at the base of my neck. 

He ran his thumb over my lower lip, teasing it open, and I touched it with the tip of my tongue. "The boots, Chief." 

"Oh. They're to prevent electrocution. Dr. Chapman's brought a few other pairs for whoever's going to be out in the corridor. Here's a pair for you." 

"Thanks. I understand about preventing electrocution. What I meant was why are you wearing the boots?" 

"I'm going to be out there... Don't you shake your head at me, tough guy! I will, too, be out there! Who else will know to watch your back?" 

"I don't want you in danger, Chief. If that Thing gets past us..." 

"Listen to me very, very carefully, because I do not intend to repeat myself. If that Thing gets past you it's because you'll be dead." 

"You'll be safer in the generator room, Blair." 

"Nowhere in the station is safe with that Thing running loose. D'you think I want to live without you? I'll be damned if I die in a matchbox of a room instead of at your side. Now shut up, kiss me once more, and let's go show this Thing what happens when you fuck with humans." 

* * *

Jim's men were all wearing rubber boots. So was Connor. "I'm getting a picture if it's the last thing I do." 

From the tight expression on her face, I could see she believed that it could very well be her last act on Earth. 

"Any word back from Ken and Eddie?" 

"Just that they're freezing," MacAuliff said. He had a walkie-talkie on a crate next to him, and he glared at it as if he could will it to come to life. His hands were stuffed under his arm pits, and he stamped his feet. "Otherwise, nothing." 

"Keep in contact. I'll leave it to your judgment how often you want to radio them." 

"About every twenty seconds sounds good to me." 

Jim gave a soft laugh, his breath a white cloud on the air. "I want to check with Captain Banks and his crew in the generator room." 

"Just a second, Jim. I may have an idea." 

"Yeah, Bob?" 

"We need that Thing to be at the junction before we can throw the switch and juice it. If it has time to think about it, it's smart enough to realize we're up to something. But if it sees us waiting for it, if we're a couple of yards before the junction, maybe we can get it so hot and bothered it'll just come a-runnin'?" 

"I think you're right, Bob. Okay, we'll wait there for it. And kill some of the lights, would you? That bulb down there, that one, those there and there. The less visibility it has..." 

"Good idea, Jim. Joel, give me a hand, okay, big guy?" 

"Want some help? Never mind, of course you don't." Connor's lips were a thin line. "Captain Ellison, what can I do..." 

"Yeah, Connor. That would be swell. Thanks." Taggart's cheeks darkened under the barely discernible flush, and Connor's jaw dropped. 

I wondered who was the most surprised at those words, she or Taggart. 

Taggart cleared his throat brusquely. "We need all the help we can get." He strode to the far end of the corridor and in a no-nonsense manner reached up to loosen a light bulb, swearing mildly when he singed his fingers. 

She closed her mouth. "Glad to be of some assistance, mate." She put her camera down, stripped off her gloves, and tucked them into a side pocket of her flight jacket. 

One of the walkie-talkies chittered to life. "Bob-o?" 

He bolted back for the instrument. "Yeah, Eddie. Talk to me!" 

"Just wanted to make sure you were still there." 

"I'm here, babe." 

"Okay." 

"Are you all right?" 

"Yeah. My fingers are frozen, though. It's quiet." A beat of silence, then, "Uh, Bob..." 

"Yeah, Eddie?" There was relieved indulgence in his voice. 

"I just realized... The door to the mess hall opens in." 

"Yeah, so? Oh, son of a bitch!" 

"What?" Too many things to take into account. I couldn't think straight. 

"Chief, if it comes that way, all that Thing will have to do is pull the door open." 

"Shit!" 

"Don't do anything till I get back!" MacAuliff made a dash for the generator room. 

"What am I missing?" 

"Connor, the door is barricaded as if it needs to be pushed open." 

"This is a scientific research facility! The sum total of IQ levels is incalculable! What stupid fuck of an idiot made a fucking stupid error like that?" 

"You do have a way with words, Connor." Taggart was regarding her with awe. 

"Thanks, mate." She gave him a distracted grin. 

Jim was looking grim. "Professor Laurenz was in charge of securing that door." 

And his nose was so deep in the crack of Carrington's ass... I was tempted to say as much, but refrained out of common courtesy to the brown-nosers of the world. 

"Chief, would you go see how everyone is holding up?" He gestured toward the generator room. "We need to take care of this. I'll be with you as soon as I can." 

"Sure, Jim. Here." I handed him a screwdriver that had been left lying on a crate. "Don't take long." 

The crew chief came trotting back, holding a drill. "No sense making this more difficult then it has to be." 

Jim picked up the walkie-talkie. "Eddie? Listen, we've got to re-hang that door. We'll be right there." 

I watched until they turned the corner, then walked back to the generator room and paused in the doorway. 

"Captain Ellison is overreacting!" Dr. Carrington snarled. I'd never seen him wound so tightly. His hands were jammed deep in the pockets of his coat, but it was plain to see they were fisted. "If I could just attempt communicating with our visitor!" 

"You think the fact that it attacked our people doesn't prove it's dangerous?" 

"Of course it would react defensively, Hugo," he sneered. "Shot at by a frightened man, attacked by vicious dogs!" 

"And what was its excuse for killing four men?" Dr. Chapman's rigid body language bespoke contained anger. 

"Essential imperative." Carrington brushed aside the other man's wrath as inconsequential. "Survival of its species, plain and simple." He heard the sound I made and turned to face me. 

"What about the survival of our species, Dr. Carrington? Are we chopped liver, just because we haven't journeyed into space yet?" 

"But don't you see? We could have it within our grasp! Imagine all the secrets we could learn from this being!" Hectic color was in his cheeks. His eyes took on a faraway expression, and I wondered what impossible utopian vista he was seeing. "All that knowledge and wisdom! I _must_ speak with Captain Ellison again! He _must_ be persuaded..." 

"I must be persuaded what, Doctor?" Jim stood in the doorway. He saw my anxious expression and gave a nod to let me know the door had been successfully re-hung. 

"We can't cast aside this opportunity to communicate with a being that is so much wiser than we are! Future generations will never forgive us for having this opportunity and denying it!" 

"Have you stopped to think that if that Thing gets out of here, there may not be any future generations to forgive us? Can you guarantee the safety of mankind, Dr. Carrington?" 

"Bah! You're talking nonsense, Dr. Sandburg! Were our ancestors, those poor, pathetic creatures who crawled from the muck of the antediluvian mire to huddle in caves and tremble in fear of the beast that dwelled by night, guaranteed anything? I think not." He paused to glare at us, then bit off, "There is never a guarantee of safety." 

"It seems to me we've been doing fairly well on our own, Arthur," Dr. Chapman asserted, deceptively mild. 

He waved away mankind's abilities as immaterial. "Oh, I'll grant you we've done a tolerable job of deciphering the mysteries of our world..." 

"Yeah," Jim said dryly. "After all, we've managed to split the atom all on our own." 

"And look how much better off mankind is for that!" Connor muttered, and I remembered that some of her most effective reporting had been of the aftermath of the atomic bombs dropped on Nagasaki and Hiroshima. 

Carrington ignored the aside and continued. "Think how much more we could learn from a being whose species has mastered space travel! If we could just open a dialogue with this being! Think of it!" 

"I am, Doctor, and it's not making me feel good." Jim turned to us, dismissing him. 

The scientist all but frothed at the mouth at his disregard and stalked to a corner, his fists once again clenching impotently in his pockets. 

"All right, everyone listen up. Captain Banks and his men will remain here. They'll be armed with axes, cleavers, whatever they've found that will cut. Make sure you stay out of their way!" 

They faced him grimly, knowing if the Thing got past Jim and his men, Simon's security team was the last line of defense. 

Jim took Simon aside. "Remember, if that Thing makes it back to here, keep swinging at its arms." 

Simon nodded, his teeth clamped down on his cigar. "Good luck, Captain. Blair." He pulled me into a hug. "Don't get yourself killed." He cleared this throat gruffly and let me go. 

Before I could step away, Mrs. Chapman wrapped her arms around me. "Godspeed, sweetie." 

Tex was the next one to wish me well. "Vaya con dios, amigo." 

And then I found myself in my lover's arms. "I can't think of anything clever to say, babe," he whispered in my ear. 

I held onto him. "Don't get dead, Jim." 

"Yeah. I guess that about says it all." His hands framed my face, and he studied my features as if memorizing them. 

"What's going on?" Carolyn Plummer asked, confusion making her eyes wide. 

Mrs. Chapman smiled at her in compassion. "I'll explain it to you in a moment, dear." 

"One moment, please, Captain Ellison." Dr. Chapman stepped forward. His wife stood at his side. "We're scientists here, but I think perhaps it might be wise to beseech a higher power..." He paused for a moment, gathering himself, and we bowed our heads. When he spoke, his voice rang strong. "'Be strong and courageous. Be not terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.'" 

And then Mrs. Chapman growled, "Now go out there and wipe that Thing off the face of the Earth!" 

* * *

Taggart and Connor were pacing restlessly, occasionally bumping into each other, mumbling an apology, and continuing to walk to expend the nervous energy. 

MacAuliff was huddled by the walkie-talkie. Beside him was the switch, waiting to be thrown. He looked up at Jim. "Still nothing, Cap. I've been in constant contact with them." 

"Bob?" 

"Danny, what are you doing out here?" 

"I just wanted to know..." 

The walkie-talkie suddenly squawked to life. Dykes' voice came over, tinny and tight. "Bob! I'm getting a reading! It's point two." 

"Ken, what about you?" 

"Nothing, Bob." 

A few minutes passed. 

"It's point five now!" 

"Ken?" 

"Still nothing." 

"It's probably coming by way of the mess hall." MacAuliff licked his lips, then gnawed on his lower one. "Cap?" 

"We have to be certain..." 

"Bob, it's one point three!" 

"I'm getting a reading now, too!" 

"Okay, both of you, get your asses back here _now_!" 

"Roger that, Jim!" 

"I'm on my way!" 

MacAuliff let out a sigh. He jumped when Barnes touched his shoulder, then gave a rusty chuckle. "There's nothing you can do here, Danny. Wait back with the others." 

"Please, can I just wait until Ken and Eddie are here?" 

"Sure." It was Jim who gave the approval. "But once they show up, I want you out of here." 

"Yes, sir." Barnes' smile was grateful. 

Connor picked up a cleaver and weighted it in her hand. "This reminds me of when we played tag with Rommel in North Africa. We were 'it' then, too." 

There was the of pounding footsteps, and Dykes and Erickson nearly collided at the junction of the two corridors. They were both breathing more heavily than the brief run would have accounted for. 

"Thank god you're safe!" Barnes' broken arm made hugging them awkward, but the other men found a way around it. 

MacAuliff ruffled the younger man's hair. "Get out of here, Danny." He sent him back to the generator room with a swat to his seat. 

"Let's take up our positions." 

We walked past the junction. 

"Chief, I just had a thought. Get one of the fire extinguishers. A shot of CO2 in that Thing's eyes might blind it, might give us an edge." 

"Gotcha." 

Sounds of muted fury could be heard at the far end of the corridor, behind the barricaded door to the mess hall. I glanced back over my shoulder and nearly stumbled. 

The door seemed to disintegrate in a shower of splinters, and the wood that had been hammered across the doorframe to secure it disintegrated as well. The Thing stood there, once again backlit by the lights in the mess hall. 

Somehow I managed to get myself moving again. I ran into the generator room. 

"What's going on?" "Is anyone hurt?" "Tell us!" 

"It's just shredded the mess hall door. Where's the goddammed fire extinguisher? I know I saw one..." 

"It's right here, Blair." Dr. Carrington's voice was soft, and I saw it next to the squat generator. I hurried to get it. 

The next thing I knew, the lights went out, and a gun was digging into a spot just behind my ear. 

"Bob! Bob!" Barnes dashed out though the door. "Carrington's turned off the generator!" 

I could hear shouts, Jim's voice dominating the others. "Ken, Eddie, keep that Thing distracted!" 

"What are you doing, Dr. Carrington?" I asked as calmly as I could. 

"Captain Ellison may be willing to disobey a direct order from his commanding officer, but once he knows that I will have no qualms in blowing your head off, I believe he'll obey _me_." 

"What are you talking about? Ellison and I barely know each other." 

"Do you think I'm so blind I don't see what's going on in my own research station? I've seen the way that officious excuse for a member of this country's military has looked at you, Doctor. I've seen men dying of thirst look at an oasis that way. Oh, yes. He'll want to keep you safe." 

He ran the barrel of the gun almost caressingly over my skull. The sight caught on strands of hair restrained by the tie, and I struggled not to flinch as he inadvertently yanked at the roots. 

"Dr. Carrington, you don't want to do this." Simon's voice placed him somewhere to our left, not a good position. Carrington was right-handed. 

"Of course I do, you stupid man." He cocked the gun. 

I swallowed. Someone was in the right position, but now, with the gun ready to fire, it did me no good. "You think that he'll risk the fate of this world for me?" 

"You're being melodramatic, Doctor. However, I have no doubt about it. Ah, you see?" 

"Dr. Carrington." Jim stood in the doorway; all I could make out was his form, but for a second I would have sworn he was clad in white armor. "Why don't you put the gun down, and we can talk about this." He took a step forward. 

"Stay away. Stay away." He was becoming agitated, and I stopped breathing. 

"Dr. Carrington! Dr. Carrington!" It was Jim's ex-wife. "Please! It's dark! I'm so frightened! Protect me!" She threw herself at us, and Carrington growled and tried to shove her away. "Daddy! Daddy!" She clung to his arm, sobbing, and abruptly the growl turned to a yowl of pain. 

"The bitch bit me!" He flung her away from him, but her ploy had given me the chance to elbow him in the gut and jerk free. 

Someone found a flashlight and switched it on. I could see figures crowded around the walls. 

"I've got him!" Simon panted. 

The flashlight swung around to illuminate the two struggling men, but Carrington was no match for the taller man. 

"Someone get that generator started again!" Jim barked. His eyes found me. "Chief..." 

"Go. I'll get the fire extinguisher and be right with you." 

The sudden darkness, and then the abrupt light, must have confused the Thing for the precious seconds we needed. MacAuliff, Erickson, and Dykes, shoulder to shoulder, formed the first line of defense. Behind them were Taggart and Connor. 

Taggart glanced over his shoulder. "Jim. Thank god! I wasn't relishing facing this Thing in the dark!" 

"I wouldn't have let it hurt you, Taggart." Connor flashed him a surprisingly flirty smile. 

"Thanks, sweet thing. That makes me feel all warm and fuzzy." 

"It should. It's not every bloke I'm willing to forgo a picture for." 

"Now that really does make me feel ..." 

"Look sharp, men, it's on the move!" 

The Thing had stooped to pick up a two by four that didn't appear to have sustained any damage. It came toward us, slightly hunched, its steps deliberate. Those eyes... 

From the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of movement, and Dr. Carrington darted past us to confront the Thing. 

"No! You must listen to me! I mean you no harm, but they... They'll kill you if they can! I want to learn from you! I'm you're friend! Please, you must listen, you must understand..." 

We stared in numb horror as the Thing turned those eyes on the scientist. Carrington took an involuntary step back, then stopped and held out his hands in supplication. 

"Please! You're wiser than us, you can teach us so much! Can't you understand? You _must_ understand! I'm a scientist who is willing, no desperate to learn from your wisdom! Why can't you understand..." 

The Thing bent closer as if to hear better the pleading words of Dr. Carrington. It drew its arm nearer to its body, then lashed out, catching the scientist across the chest and sending him crashing backward against a far wall. 

"Holy shit!" 

"Yeah, Connor, you got that right!" 

It was coming toward us again, and we began backing away from it. 

"It's off the walkway. We have to have it on the walkway for the electricity to do any good!" For the first time I heard fear in MacAuliff's voice. 

It continued stalking us. Those eyes... Vicious, malicious, hate-filled... 

My hands clenched, and metal bit into them. The fire extinguisher. I'd forgotten it completely. I sent it skidding parallel to the wooden walk. The Thing made that high-pitched mewling sound and jumped out of the way. 

Onto the walk. 

The fire extinguisher bounced and rolled on past it. 

"Get back quick!" Jim ordered, and we all retreated to the spot where the switch was hooked up. He picked it up and waited. 

"Jim, make sure you've got your senses dialed down!" 

He gave a short nod, never taking his eyes from our enemy. 

"Not yet, Jim. Not yet... " 

The Thing reached the junction, and those eyes seemed to glow with gloating triumph. It took another step, another, and... 

**"NOW!"**

Jim threw the switch, and the connection was made. Arcs of electricity leaped from the wires and cables, attaching to the Thing's extremities. Smoke began to curl from the tips of its many-fingered hands, from its feet, from those eyes. 

And that sound, that horrible mewling sound... 

Dykes turned away, sickened. "Stop." 

"No," I said. "Don't stop. We don't want its kind here, we don't want anything left." I rested my hand on my lover's shoulder. 

The fluid that was the Thing's lifeblood, sap, whatever, hissed and popped and evaporated, and it shrank, becoming smaller and smaller. 

That porous, unconnected tissue burned to ash. The smell was on the pleasant side, reminding me of a root plant that grew in the Amazon. It would be buried in an ash pit and roasted slowly for hours. 

"Not so tough now, are you, you alien fuck!" 

"Connor! My ears!" But Taggart's arm was around her shoulder, holding her close to his side. She leaned against him. "Get your picture this time, girl?" 

She tipped her head back to answer him, but his lips swallowed whatever she was going to say. She sighed into his mouth and curled an arm around his neck. 

Her camera fell to the wooden walkway with a clatter. The back snapped open, and film spilled out in a curl of shiny black. 

The two broke their kiss and stared down at it. "Aw, geez, Connor. I'm sorry. Your film..." 

"Doesn't matter, Taggart." She stroked her fingers over his face, and I didn't need sentinel senses to hear the rasp of his beard. "I was so busy watching that Thing fry, I forgot to take the picture." 

* * *

It wasn't surprising, not when you stopped to consider everything that had been going on, that we'd lost track of time. 

The Arctic night was falling. 

In an unexpected turn of events, the storm that I'd been willing to bet was one of those three-weekers petered out. 

"Could that Thing have had something to do with it?" 

It was a good thing my question was rhetorical, because no one had an answer for it. 

Simon looked over his men. They were already bundled in parkas, scarves, caps, and gloves. He rolled the fat cigar between his teeth and nodded. "All right, let's go see what that Thing did to the fuel line." 

Minutes later, "Blair!" My name seemed to echo through the station. 

I went to the intercomm and keyed it. "Yeah, Simon?" 

"You better get up here. It looks like you've got company!" 

My heart tripped into overdrive. Had our Eskimos not been far enough away in time? But when I got there I breathed a sigh of relief. 

It was the sled dogs. Apparently they'd been hovering by the outer door, and once it was opened, they bolted into the upper corridor. I approached them, crooning. 

Ikuma, the lead bitch, hackles raised, teeth bared, growls spilling from curled lips and head extended, sniffed my hand, and I wondered about her caution. 

A couple of days later I did a necropsy on the carcass of a dog that had been found ripped to pieces. Porous, unconnected cellular tissue... 

The dogs followed me back outside, and I chained them up for the night, away from the blood-stained snow where they'd first encountered the Thing. Before we left, I would see that they were given to our Eskimos. 

With a final look to make sure they were settled, I went back into the station. 

Simon and his men did whatever needed to be done to get the oil running again, and while the station was slowly warming up, everyone still wore their outer gear. 

"Blair." 

"Yes, Dr. Chapman?" 

He and some of the other scientists were preparing to go into the greenhouse to retrieve the bodies of our colleagues and the security men. 

"Would you mind seeing how Esther is doing?" 

I looked past him to the darkened greenhouse. I'd been dreading seeing the condition of the bodies. "Are you sure...?" 

"Please." His hand on my shoulder was comforting and warm. 

I gave a jerky nod and licked my lips. "Yes, okay." 

"Go along now, son." 

I squeezed his arm in thanks and left, my pace not quite a run. 

Mrs. Chapman looked up when I entered sick bay. "Hi, sweetie." Her words were as weary as her smile. 

"Hi, Mrs. C. How are you holding up?" 

"Not too badly." 

I looked around at the occupants of the beds. "Where's Barnes?" 

"He wanted to go back to his own quarters." 

"And you let him?" 

"That's what Sergeant MacAuliff said." She gave a small laugh. "He was... indignant... when he came to see how Danny was doing and found I was going to let him go. Danny really didn't need to be kept here; his break was a simple fracture. I gave him something for the pain, and the sergeant said he'd go back to his room with him and keep an eye on him." 

"I imagine he will." I also imagined that if MacAuliff's quarters hadn't been destroyed, that's where Barnes would have wound up for observation, instead of in his own room. But either way, MacAuliff would be with him. 

She saw my eyes go to Dr. Stern. "Josef seems to be rallying, although it's still touch and go. Captain Ellison says we'll be able to fly him out first thing tomorrow morning." 

"And Dr. Carrington?" 

"He's got a shattered clavicle, and when he regains consciousness, he's going to have a massive headache." 

"He'll be getting off better than he deserves, then. I don't understand how he could value acquiring knowledge over the well-being of the human race." 

She patted my shoulder. "I believe sleep deprivation had something to do with his obsession, although not everything. The acquisition of knowledge has always been be-all/end-all to Arthur. All that he did, that he was willing to do... It's sad, really, because he probably won't remember a... thing." 

"Lucky him. I'll be having nightmares for the rest of my life!" I watched as she dug her knuckles into the small of her back and arched to ease the kinks. I stood behind her and began to massage her shoulders. 

"That feels good, sweetie. Thank you." 

"Mrs. C, will you and Dr. Chapman stay here?" 

"I don't think so, Blair. I have a feeling that when the government learns what went on up here, this station will be closed down. You know they were never enthusiastic about Arthur's choice of locale to begin with. And there are people who will be very happy to see him get what they feel are his just deserts." 

"Any idea what you'll do?" 

"Hugo's had an offer to meet with Clayton Forrester." 

"Of Pacific-Tech? I'm impressed!" Forrester had quite a reputation in his own field, astro- and nuclear-physics, and was doing some pretty important work on atomic engines. There had been an article about him in Time Magazine. 

Mrs. Chapman smiled, remembering. "He was a student of Hugo's years back, when a friend asked Hugo to cover a course for him one semester. Quite a brilliant man, even then, and he wants Hugo to work with him." 

"That's great, but... What about you? You don't expect me to believe you'll be willing to sit at home listening to The Romance of Helen Trent and Young Dr. Malone, and eating bonbons." 

"No," there was amusement in her voice, "Hugo is the one with the weakness for bonbons, although I used to be very fond of soap operas." She grew serious. "I'm sure I'll be able to find a hospital with a modern enough outlook that will hire a female medical doctor." 

"Just don't hold your breath." "I just won't hold my breath." 

She sighed and gazed around at the somber walls of sick bay. "Do you know what I find... amusing? All the scientists who backed Arthur in his plan to grow those Things are swearing now that we've misunderstood the situation completely." 

"What, that they had no intention of letting things get out of hand and were on the verge of informing Dr. Carrington that he was making a serious error? Voorhees, Laurenz..." I grimaced, his name a bad taste in my mouth. "They should all get their asses kicked!" 

"Yes, and I'll be the first in line." Mrs. Chapman turned to face me, looking more tired than I could ever remember seeing her. "The two security men, Raleigh and Winston, had no one, you know, but I'll have to inform Dr. Auerbach's daughter. And Helen Olson..." She shook her head. "We're fortunate our losses weren't greater." 

"Yes. And when you stop to think about it, if we _hadn't_ been here..." We both shuddered. 

"Dr. Sandburg." 

"Miss Plummer." I turned to her with some relief. I didn't want to dwell on how this could very well have been the beginning of the end for the human race. "How are you feeling?" 

"My head hurts. Mrs. Chapman says I've got a lump on the back of my head the size of a yam! I guess it kind of goes with this." She touched the bandage on her temple. "I'm sorry about what happened in the generator room before. I hope you weren't too frightened." 

"Of course I wasn't frightened." I'd only been scared spitless. 

"I really did know what I was doing, you know." 

"Did you?" That gun could have gone off and blown my head to smithereens. 

Jim's ex-wife offered a smile that took me aback with its sweetness. "You see, I had a friend who taught me how to use a pistol." 

"Oh?" My voice was chill. A _male_ friend? If she'd screwed around and hurt Jim... 

"Samantha Charles was the champion female sharpshooter of a local pistol range." Her smile dimmed for a second. "She was a good friend. Anyway, I knew the safety catch was still on Dr. Carrington's gun." 

"Oh. Well." _Samantha_? Was this the 'Sam' she'd said she wanted? I pushed the thought aside for consideration at another time. "Um... thank you, Miss Plummer." 

"You're welcome, Dr. Sandburg." 

"Well, uh... " I looked around, floundering. There didn't seem to be anything else to say. 

Mrs. Chapman broke the silence before it could become even more uncomfortable. "Will you be going with Captain Ellison when he and his men fly out tomorrow, sweetie?" 

"No, I have to wrap up my work here first. Most of it is just scut work, but I can't walk away from it. Most likely I'll leave within the next week or so. " 

"I guess in that case we'll be seeing quite a bit of him." 

I ducked my head, feeling a blush rise up to my hairline. Jim had opened his mouth to object when I'd told him I couldn't leave yet, but I'd taken the opportunity to kiss it closed. 'It's my work, Jim,' I'd told him, and he'd agreed reluctantly. 

'I'll talk General Fogarty into letting me make the flight runs up here.' 

'I'd like that.' 

'I kind of thought you would.' And he'd kissed me this time. 

Carolyn Plummer's forehead wrinkled. "Why would Jimmy fly up here?" 

Mrs. Chapman patted her hand and ignored the question. "Blair, I understand that Captain Ellison and his men are in the radio room. Why don't you bring them some coffee? I'm sure they could use a caffeine boost." 

"I was going to ask if you needed to be spelled, Mrs. C." 

"I'm fine, sweetie. Things are quiet enough now. You go on." She gave me a kiss and a final hug, and I headed for the mess hall to see about the coffee. 

The support staff had found a door from somewhere. It had been re-hung to open in. 

I hadn't been in the mess hall since... I ran a hand over my face, finding it difficult to remember exactly when. It felt like forever ago. 

And then I did recall. I'd gone with Jim and his men to get their damp flight suits. Half-filled coffee cups had been scattered on the tables, a forgotten sandwich, an apple with a bite taken out of it. 

Afterwards, when the final attack began, it had sounded as if the Thing had run amuck in the mess hall, and I was reluctant to see the damage it had sustained; I steeled myself and pushed the door open. 

The hole the Thing had cut in the outer wall was being repaired. Meanwhile, the Arctic wind blew in around the edges. 

Lee was swearing in a Cantonese monotone while he and his boys swept up broken crockery and pots that had been crumpled between impossibly powerful hands and tossed aside in inhuman fury. A couple of tables and some chairs had also been destroyed. 

When one of the men saw I was going to check the rec room, he stopped me. "I'd better warn you, Dr. Sandburg. There's a lot of damage." 

That was an understatement. I stood in the doorway and tried to catch my breath. The destruction of the room had been wanton and systematic. The chess pieces had been broken in two, the Monopoly board had been sliced into strips of cardboard, and the deck of cards Taggart and Connor had been using was so much confetti; books had been ripped to shreds; furniture had been smashed. The only things that appeared to have escaped were the Monopoly pieces Mrs. Chapman and Barnes had selected. 

I turned away, stunned by the magnitude of the hatred displayed. "What a... " It took a second for me to pull myself together. "What a mess." 

"That Thing rucky I no see what it do to my kitchen, Brair. I fix him wagon good, I tell you!" 

"I believe you, Lee." 

"We fix soon, then get dinner started." His matter-of-fact attitude helped steady me. 

"Do you have any coffee? I'm heading for the radio room, and they could probably use a cup." 

"That first thing I make." He gestured toward the stove. There were four coffee pots perking away. "You take one." He paused in his cleanup and watched as I stacked cups and picked up a pot. "I hear Captain Errison in radio room." He smiled and shooed me out. 

If Lee was aware of our feelings for each other, then most likely the entire station was aware. I sighed. I'd always tried to be so careful. I wondered how Jim would react to the knowledge that our affair was common knowledge. 

And how long would it be before the military became aware? 

If push came to shove, I was sure he would resign rather than wait to be dishonorably discharged, but what if afterwards he was unable to find a job? 

I'd take care of him. 

I lost myself in a daydream of my lover being kept by me. I'd come home from a long day slaving over a hot microscope to find him sprawled on our bed, on satin sheets, or maybe silk, something that would be smooth and soft against his bare skin. He'd give me a slow, slumberous smile and reach for me, and... 

If my hands hadn't been full, I would have unzipped my parka. 

When had Simon got the heat in the station up so high? 

* * *

Tex was back in front of his radio set. Dykes stood beside him, fiddling with the dials. With the cessation of the storm there was no doubt they'd finally be able to get a message to General Fogarty. 

Extra chairs had been brought in, and the room was crowded. Erickson was sitting on his spine, his long legs stretched out in front of him. "God, I'm glad this is all over!" 

"Mmm." Jim, his elbows propped on his knees, his chin in his hands, and his eyes closed, was looking exhausted. His nose twitched. A smile curled his lips. Eyes still closed, he murmured, "Hi, Chief." 

"Hi, Jim. I brought some coffee." 

"I'll have some." "Me, too." "And me." "So will we." 

"Good thing I brought plenty of cups." I set them down on Tex's desk and filled them. "Sorry, you'll have to take it black. I didn't have enough hands to bring milk and sugar." 

Dykes took a couple of cups and went to sit next to Erickson. 

"Not a problem, Sandy. I like my... coffee... black." Connor grinned, also taking two cups, and strolled across to where Taggart was sitting. "Here you go, big guy." 

"Thanks, girl." He accepted the cup, then wrapped his other hand around her leg and rubbed his thumb over her knee. 

She reached out and traced the curve of his ear. 

There were assorted clearings of throats. Connor glanced around coolly. "Problem, gentlemen?" 

"Nope." "No problem that I can see." "Uh, no." 

"I didn't think so." She sat down next to Taggart and brought her cup to her lips. 

"You're a pistol, Connor." 

"You've got that right, mate." 

Jim had opened his eyes and was watching me. The caress was almost palpable, and I shifted to ease the sudden constriction of my pants. 

"Anything left of our visitor?" I handed my lover his cup and sat down in the chair he'd pulled up beside his. 

"Not a thing." Jim took a deep swallow, then grimaced as his mouth registered the heat. "You could have warned me, babe!" 

"Hey, you're the sentinel!" I dropped my voice to a teasing whisper. "Does this mean the honeymoon is over?" 

"Not in this century, Chief. Not ever, if I can help it." 

"Jim!" I could tell from the way his nostrils flared that he could smell my desire. 

It was going to be interesting living with this man. He'd know if I was upset, if I was scared, if I was horny... He smiled, and I coughed lightly and resumed speaking in a normal tone. 

"So... uh... everything was destroyed?" 

"Yeah." There was harsh satisfaction in his voice. "Dr. Carrington's garden in his laboratory, what that Thing was growing in the greenhouse..." His look became grim. "They'd reached the size of one of your husky dogs, Chief." 

I felt cold. "That fast?" 

"Yeah. And the sounds they were making... We burned everything to ash. The arm too." He took another swallow of coffee to hide how disturbing the memory was. "How's Carolyn?" 

I accepted the change of subject. "She's doing well. She's got a lump on the back of her head the size of a yam, but Mrs. Chapman says she wasn't even concussed this time. I'll tell you something, Jim. I'm gonna be glad to get out of here. It's just too damn cold!" 

"Captain Ellison, I've managed to reach Anchorage. They're patching a line through to Cascade." 

And Jim was all business. "Thanks, Tex." He pushed himself to his feet with a muffled groan. 

"You need some sleep, Jim." 

"It'll have to wait until the General is done chewing on my ass, Chief." 

"Your quarters are a disaster." 

"Yeah." 

"We've got someplace to stay, Cap." Erickson peeled open an eye. Dykes yawned. 

"You two are finished here. Why don't you get some shut-eye?" 

"Thanks, Jim. You're a good man." Dykes paused for a beat, then continued. "We couldn't leave before we found our captain a place to sleep, though." 

"Why don't you let me worry about that?" Two sets of eyes settled on me, and I could feel myself blushing. 

"Fine by us, Doc. Jim, we're gonna see if we can scrounge up a bite in the mess hall, and then hit the sack." 

He waved them out of the radio room. 

"You will need a place to sleep, Jim." 

"You have someplace in mind, babe?" 

"Could be." 

"Any reason why I can't send my story now, Captain?" 

Jim sighed and looked at Connor. "What the hell. They can only court-martial me once." He sat down again. 

Connor began speaking into the mic. "Hey, Sparky, are there any reporters there?" Her grin confirmed the affirmative. "All right you lot, this is Megan Connor reporting from Polar Expedition 6 at the North Pole. Flash! Here at the top of the world, the first invasion by an intergalactic foe has been beaten back by a handful of soldiers, civilians, and scientists, although not without casualties to our own meager forces. Noah once saved our world with an ark of wood. Earlier today, a similar service was performed with an arc of electricity. Before I go into the details, I'd like to introduce some of the key people involved in this battle, but Captain Jim Ellison, the ranking military officer, is attending to matters above and beyond the call of duty." 

Jim had slouched back in his chair. His eyes were closed and his coffee cup was in danger of tipping. I took it from relaxed fingers, smiling as he uttered a soft snore. 

"I would also like to call Dr. Arthur Carrington, leader of the scientific contingent, but he is recovering from injuries suffered in the battle." 

"Good for you, girl." Taggart murmured in approval. The truth of the scientist's folly wasn't something the general public needed to know. There would be time enough to reveal his actions at a later date. 

"Before I go into the details of this battle, I have an urgent message for all of you, for all the people of the Earth! 

" _Keep watching the skies_! 

"Keep looking, keep watching..." 

* * *

As Mrs. Chapman had predicted, Dr. Carrington's research station was shut down. It broke him, or maybe it was looking into that Thing's eyes that had done it. He had the appearance of a man at least twenty years older; his eyes had become vague, and his mind persistently wandered. 

What was so sad was that all his former brilliance would forever be overshadowed by one gross misjudgment. 

Jim and his men were pronounced heroes and were summoned to Washington, DC to be awarded medals personally by President Truman. 

The rest of us had to make do with a civilian ceremony in Cascade. 

And because he was such a hero, the military accepted Jim's explanation when he bought a loft on the third floor of 852 Prospect, and I took a teaching position at Rainier and moved in with him. 

Just a couple of guys bach-ing it. 

Just a couple of guys... 

"Hi, Jim. Tough day?" 

"Strange day, Chief." He curved his hand around my neck and pulled me in for a long, slow, deep kiss. We were both breathless by the time he was done. I was reaching for his fly when he said, "A letter from Carolyn arrived at the base." 

"Oh?" I asked cautiously. The last we had heard, Jim's ex-wife had moved east, to DC. Why was she contacting Jim now? 

"She sounds like she's enjoying Washington. Well, that was the kind of life she wanted right from the beginning." 

"So she plans on staying there?" 

"I think so. I thought she was writing because she wanted to ask for another chance, but she says... wait a second, let me find it." He took a sheet of lavender paper from inside his jacket pocket. The odor of lilacs wafted up from it, and he sneezed. 

"Bless you." 

"Thank you." Oh, that smile! "Where was I? Oh, yes. She says, 'I've found a wonderful job that pays well for this town, and just the other day I ran across an old friend, Jimmy. Samantha was surprised to see me, but very glad. We went out to dinner and talked for hours. It seems things are so costly here in Washington that she's been having a hard time making ends meet. We're going to rent an apartment together and split the expenses.'" 

"I don't suppose she said you could stop sending alimony now." 

"Why would she?" Jim looked confused. "It's not as if she's getting married, Chief." 

"No, I guess not. But ... Never mind." As long as she stayed a continent away from my lover, I wouldn't begrudge the cost. 

"Uh, Chief, do you think that was an awful lot of information to give an ex-husband?" 

"It struck you that way too, Sherlock?" 

"Yeah. Do you think Carolyn and this Samantha might be..." He waggled his eyebrows. 

"I think you might be right, Jim. Hey!" 

He'd caught me around the waist, and we landed on the sofa. He got my pants down around my hips and took my half-hard dick into his mouth. 

Before I lost all coherent thought, it occurred to me that if Carolyn Plummer and Samantha Charles were half as much in love as I was with Jim, they were damned lucky. 

* * *

"Hi, Chief. Hard day?" Jim had gotten home before me. He handed me a bottle of beer. 

"What tipped you off?" 

"I could hear you pounding up the stairs. You only do that when something's made you so mad you want to slam the door, but you won't slam the door because you know it would hurt my ears, so you burn off steam running up the three flights of stairs instead." 

"I'm that easy to read?" 

"Blair, if I can't read my guide, I'm really not much of a sentinel. How about telling me what's lit your fuse?" 

"That bastard, Stoddard!" 

"Your mentor? I thought he'd left Rainier." 

"Yeah. He was so kind as to sponsor me for his position. Kind my ass. You know what he did?" I didn't wait for Jim to answer. "He used all the information I'd amassed, all the research I'd compiled. and wrote The Watchman! 'Watchman' my... That's a crock of shit!" 

Jim started to chuckle. 

I scowled at my lover. "Jim, he's written about a _sentinel_!" I was gratified to see how he reacted to that bit of news. 

"Goddammed son of a bitch! He..." 

"That rotten piece of fiction is on the New York Times bestseller list!" 

"Wait a second! 'Bestseller list?' _Fiction_?" 

"Yeah," I snarled, squeezing the neck of the beer bottle as I would have liked... My eyes narrowed, and I could picture my hands closing around Stoddard's scrawny neck and wringing it. "I trusted the man! I listened to him, followed his _advice_ like a fucking _sheep_!" 

"Fiction? Jesus, Chief! I thought you were going to tell me he'd stolen your research and used it to further his own miserable career." Jim took the beer from my hand and put it down on the counter. 

"Yeah, but..." 

"Listen, babe. Stoddard may have a best-seller, but I'm willing to bet it's going to be a one-shot deal." He looped his arms around my hips and pulled me up against him. I could feel his erection nudging me, and my dick swelled to meet him. He leaned his head closer, took my earlobe between his teeth and bit down gently, and I started to shake. 

"Well, yeah, I guess, but..." I became even more distracted when his lips hovered a hairsbreadth above mine. "Jim..." 

"Blair, he's got the book, but you've got the real thing..." His hands palmed the curves of my ass, and his fingers dug in and urged me to ride his thigh. 

"Jim!" I whispered against his mouth. 

"You've got me!" 

* * *

End Baked, Boiled, or Fried by Tinnean: Tinneantoo@earthlink.net  
Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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